Commodities
by Ari Rue
Summary: Sebastian has claimed Ciel's soul, but even he has debts that need to be paid. What does he have to offer up to settle the score? Set Post Series.
1. Chapter 1: Then, Young Master

Title: Commodities

Author: Ari Rue

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of the characters from the manga or anime series. I am not affiliated with the creators or producers of said manga or anime. Any characters not pertaining to the anime or manga, Kuroshitsuji, are mine. If you would like to take them out to play, please ask.

Author Notes: This story contains spoilers from the end of Kuroshitsuji. If you're sensitive to that, please don't read it. I have read and re-read this piece, though I am flying blind without a beta reader. If I missed something vital, or something is just plain "bad", let me know. This is my first real piece in several YEARS, so there may be a bit of rust in my style. That's a big part of why I'm writing this… to work on the rust. Well, without further procrastination, hesitation, or insulation, I present to you: Commodities.

Commodities: Chapter 1

Even as Sebastian descended upon him, there was a passing hope that the demon would not take his dues. Ciel Phantomhive was not so foolish as to expect it, but there was a part of him that desperately wanted it to be so. He wanted to know that there had been more than just the contract holding Sebastian to him, that the reason his butler protected him so absolutely was because he cared about him. The reason he had attended his needs with such diligence was he wanted him to be happy. He did not want to know, in his last moments, that every time he had been carried to safety was a mere formality of obligation.

He did not want to know that whatever intimate conversations they had shared were nothing more than indulgences given to Ciel, ultimately in exchange for his soul. He just didn't want it to be true, even when his logical self calmly reminded him that Sebastian was not a being of emotional attachment. His butler was ancient and immortal, witness to countless wars and peaceful lulls in human history. He had aided and hindered many people in his time, never caring for any of them, always keeping their contract cut and dry. It was how he survived, it was his nature. For him to save a bitter young boy, who had been foolish enough to offer his soul freely but three years ago as material to trade, was a pitiful expectation.

Ciel looked into Sebastian's eyes. They were the color of earthen garnets, dark and clear, just red enough to hint that something was different about the man who owned them. Some would simply pass off the color as exotic but Ciel knew it was much more than that. Despite that, Ciel could call them human- could call him human with those eyes.

He watched in silence as Sebastian tugged one white glove off with his teeth, letting it fall to the ground. It was like that glove was the servitude he was ending, discarded easily. When he knelt down and touched a warm hand to Ciel's face, it was a touch of dominance as much as a comforting gesture. Ciel could feel it, the hunger behind the touch, the desire to claim his payment and end the contract. His heart sank a farther as the exceptionally small sliver of hope evaporated like lace touched by fire.

He didn't know if he regretted his pact with the demon. His life had been Hell on Earth after the death of his parents, so could the real Hell be worse? Or if Sebastian devoured his soul completely, would he even go to Hell, or would he just cease to be? If it was the latter, would he miss himself? He guessed not as paradoxically he wouldn't know of his own inexistence.

He felt Sebastian's fingers slide beneath the patch covering his eye, loosening it enough to pull the simple bow from the back. Ciel could feel it drop away and land quietly on the ground by his feet. It was almost an erotic kind of exposure, even though the piece removed was so small. It showed his mark, the demonic contract etched into his right eye. It was a guilty brand of damnation upon him and though he had initiated the contract, he felt strange with it in the open.

Sebastian's fingers ran through his hair. It was not quite a loving gesture, but Ciel leaned into it anyway. Who could love him now anyway? It was better to embrace the feeling than to deny the touch. He would be dead soon, it would be the last thing he felt with this body.

Even as a demon, Sebastian was not unkind to his former master. He did not mock the foolishness of trading his soul for revenge or frighten him with the details of what was to come. He just touched him in a soft goodbye, as he knew Ciel could appreciate, even if the young earl would never have directly asked him to. He was adept at these partings and though with contracts past he had been less cordial, less understanding. He knew he would be enough victims to come who were more deserving than Ciel was of harsh treatment at their end. He could let his young master enter his end peacefully, though the boy had asked for pain.

Ciel did not turn away as Sebastian's pupils went to cat-like slits in predatory anticipation. He wouldn't stiffen, wouldn't show fear now. He would meet his chosen fate with his eyes open; looking into the face of the demon who had been his constant companion after the world fell around him. It was almost like looking at family. That's what people wanted, right? To be able to see their loved ones before they died? Ciel knew this was not anything close to the normal circumstances people talked about, but then, he was very far from normal. He could almost say he was fairly far from human all together. Except that ugly tug in his mind that was begging Sebastian to save him, release him, love him- it didn't matter, just anything to ease his failing heart. That was purely human.

"Then… Young Master." Sebastian breathed, leaning in eagerly.

Ciel could feel the demon's mouth against his neck. He could feel the heat off Sebastian's body as his mouth wandered seductively from below his ear to the nape, his Cheshire grin widening and parting to allow his razor sharp teeth to graze the soft skin of his shoulder. His slow ministrations, rather than making the transition easier, only allowed fear to find a foothold in his chest.

Sebastian slowly moved his hands to Ciel's tie, deftly unknotting the dark silken cord. It was like everything was playing backwards in a way. The man who had dressed him every morning was now in front of him, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding his coat off with equally practiced ease.

Ciel knew it was supposed to hurt, Sebastian had told him so plainly that it would. So where was it? Panic began to rise ever so slowly, burning away the simple fear into something worse. The will to live, the realization that it was completely done with crashed upon him like a winter wave on the English shore. He didn't want it to hurt. He could still feel Sebastian's mouth on him, his hands gently parting the edges of his shirt and moving beneath to touch the soft flesh of his sides. Everything still felt too real, "Sebas-"he began in a hoarse whisper.

Sebastian heard the quiet scuffle as Ciel balled up one of his fists against the bench involuntarily. He had hoped that he was able to keep the boy calm until he passed out, just go slow until sleep took him and the pain would be like that in a dream. The soft utterance of his name only proved it further. Ciel was going to struggle.

Sebastian moved swiftly to grab Ciel by the wrist, using his other hand to dig roughly into Ciel's thigh. The boy tried to raise his captured arm was Sebastian sank his teeth into the pliant skin of his shoulder. He could feel every muscle clench as he began to drain him.

"Sebastian!" Ciel cried out despite himself, trying to pull away. He wasn't going to cry, not now. It was so close to being over, wasn't it? Crying served no purpose now. But it began to hurt beyond that shoulder bite. Sebastian moved to his captured wrist, sinking his teeth there until Ciel could hear the bones break. "Se-Sebastian!"

It was all he could say, the name of his savior and his executioner. The name he had called so many times to come to his rescue, to bring him meals, to help him wherever he needed it. There was nothing else to say. He would not tell him to stop, he would not beg for his life- he couldn't do that after everything. But the name, it said enough, it begged for him. But it was a call for help that would go unanswered. At this Ciel finally closed his eyes. If he could just blackout then he wouldn't have to deal with any of these thoughts, these emotions. He could endure it the way he endured his captivity as a slave. When things went really bad, he could hold his breath and pressure his mind to darkness. He needed that now.

He felt Sebastian's fingers release his thigh and move to his throat, their strong and slender tips gripping his windpipe. He took a deep breath of air, then another. It was over now, all over. Oh God, why did he need to lose it like this? He had almost died bravely, as he had wanted to in his stoic way.

It was too late for that regret though, everything mercifully went black. In the dark, the pain continued, but he could no longer open his eyes to see or his mouth to speak. He couldn't move and in a way it felt like pain outside his body. He couldn't tell what was hurting; it was just blind pain washing over him at interval, sharp and lurid. Ciel didn't know how long it would take for his soul to be taken or how long the pain would last. But it showed no signs of stopping well after he had assumed it must. Cynically he told himself it didn't matter. He only had to go through it once.


	2. Chapter 2: Have You Forgotten?

Commodities: Chapter 2

Sebastian could feel Ciel's frail body convulse against him in agony. Even in the quasi-unconscious state he forced him into couldn't stop the body from rebelling against the torture. The boy's feet slid helplessly against the dirt as if trying to break away from the demon's embrace as his clenched and unclenched with each death wave.

The demon had to admit, it felt very good to hold Ciel in his arms as he died. His soul was so thick, like a rich broth studded with morsels of fine meat and delicate vegetables. His essence was twisted and bitter, yet compassionate and innocent. It was a heady cocktail he would savor for hours to come, take in slowly. Ciel was a rare wine to his palette, complex and yet thoroughly enjoyable in every way. There was just so much to him, cloaked in a velvety wrap of pain and despair.

He pushed closer against his victim, bringing one leg to rest on the bench while the other steadied him on the ground, half straddling the boy. He wrapped both arms firmly around his small body, pressing close as he tucked Ciel's head beneath his chin. If there had been anyone to pass by, the scene would almost have looked protective; a young boy sheltered by his guardian. Only the fluttering bird-like movements of the boy would warn otherwise. The shivers of pleasure from the demon would go unnoticed, unless someone got really close.

Sebastian could feel his arousal tight against the fine fabric of his trousers. It was normal for him to get hard while devouring a soul, though when it pressed insistently against the naked chest of his young dying master, it seemed very vulgar and classless.

He tilted that part of himself away momentarily, trying to focus on just the sweet feelings he was getting from the boy's essence, but found himself pivoting back to where he was, relishing in the physical contact. There was no one to see him there, no one to witness how his basest and most inappropriate desires manifested. It wasn't even a lust for Ciel's body; it was just a side effect of devouring his soul. He couldn't get close enough, couldn't enjoy him enough, it was intoxicating.

When it was over, Sebastian pulled away from his former master's body regretfully. The bloodlust high he had thrown himself into began to ebb, leaving a dark calm in its wake. He assumed the sensation was something like human loneliness, or regret. But he couldn't be sure. Unlike humans, demons were not beings of emotion. Those that found attachment to such things generally perished. It was an affliction that did irreparable damage to the mind, impairing judgment and demolishing the need for self preservation. It was a death sentence.

It was not impossible for such a thing to occur though. Sebastian knew that if given enough time, he could have found emotional attachments to Ciel. Luckily he had been savvy enough to know the boy would not live long enough for that to be a danger. Seekers of revenge, in his experience, cut to the chase as fast as they could with the hatred still hot in their veins. Ciel had taken awhile longer than most of the humans he had made such contracts with for revenge, but his age and general fragility accounted the slow hunt.

He knelt in front of the boy, carefully buttoning the now crumpled dress shirt he had ultimately died in. Each clasp was like a lock to his heart, hiding Ciel's body from his eyes as much as it closed away each memory they shared. He wouldn't ever say the memories meant nothing to him, but they would never have the same meaning as if the boy had shared them with a human. Memories, like emotions, translated differently to his demonic mind. They were much more flitting and brief because of his immortality. The last four years were like months to him, maybe less. It was a short stay in the human world, posing as a human. Would his next contract be that way? It was always such a mystery before he was summoned.

He touched the boy as if he was made of snow, mindful that a heavy touch would melt him away. He didn't want that just yet. It was why he hadn't completely devoured the soul. He wanted a few more minutes before committing him to Hell, just one more fleeting memory to add to his collection, just a little longer to watch the flickering candle flame known as Ciel's existence burn in quiet repose. In Hell, he would not be so peaceful. His soul would twist and writhe eternally, flame burned and consumed by flame; Paradoxical, but terribly accurate.

He gently pressed the round brass buttons of Ciel's coat back into place, straightening the lapels so that they folded evenly against the boy's chest. He wished there was a white rose to place in the breast button hole. It would have been fitting. Since there was not, he lifted the silken black tie from where it had fallen to the ground and adeptly tied it around Ciel's neck. It was not the usual bow that his former master chose when Sebastian dressed him every morning, but the long kind. Sebastian wondered if Ciel had chosen it to match his own, "What a silly thing to do, young master. It does not suit you."

Sebastian sat down beside his lifeless master, pulling the boy's body over until his head rested against his thigh. It was not the same as sleep, but for a time he figured he could pretend it was. The sun reigned down peaceably, lending light without sparks of heat. The breeze hallowed through the ruins gently, lending a soft sort of music in the absence of bird songs. The island was a strange place between worlds; alien to both Earth and Hell in its timeless feel. Like both worlds could go on while it stopped here. No birds, no bugs, just the sandy shore with no waves, the trees that did not whisper in the breeze, and the stoic ruins. It was as if only the wind knew the truth of it, sailing from one world to the next and back again. It knew, but it wasn't going to tell anyone.

The demon gently ran his fingers through Ciel's silvery hair. It was unlike any human hair he had ever encountered in his long existence. It was as fine as spider silk and so soft that even as his fingers carded through the tussled locks he wasn't sure he was touching anything at all. He guessed Ciel had gotten his hair from his mother. It looked very soft in the paintings he had seen of her. Not that it mattered now. The boy would never pass that trait or any other on to children, no one would. As the last of the Phantomhive clan, his soft hair, his lovely blue eyes, and his refined features would be forgotten with him.

Elizabeth his cousin, though beautiful in her own right, did not have any of the fine qualities his master did. His master? No, he wasn't that any longer. He was another human soul, fallen prey to the collection of the demon Sebastian. A small, damaged soul that had been savored and would soon be condemned to Hell.

"Demon," a voice called, "Have you forgotten your debt to me?"

A scowl rippled its way across the demon's face. How dare that woman tread here, interrupting the final moments of his contract. It was so classless, so common. Sebastian turned his head up to the crumbling wall top, following the voice back to its emanation.


	3. Chapter 3: Calling Debts

Commodities: Chapter 3

The witch stood atop the broken parapet, looking haughty and tall as she gazed down upon him. Her eyes were as dark as his own, but they were not the color of blood. They were brown like tilled Earth, stained with flecks of gold towards the edges of the iris. Beautiful, dangerous eyes he had seen so many times before, in a different time, a different life.

The breeze seemed to greet her of its own accord, swirling around her like an excited puppy happy to see its owner's return after a long day alone. It caught strands of her auburn dark hair, twisting and twirling it out behind her. The raven feathers which had been woven to the ends sang a papery tune as they danced with the breeze too.

As Sebastian looked at her there was a dark thought of breaking her willowy body to pieces. Her slender arms would snap at the slightest pressure from his hands and he could crush her ribs into their own cage to suffocate her. So many violent musings as he watched her, perched like a bird, aloof like a cat. He should not let her interruption go unpunished.

It wasn't until he saw a small hand reach around the edge of her cloak that he stopped his considerations. While the witch deserved everything he could dream up for her, there was one reason he could never touch her; Sinah.

The young girl stepped around the cloak's edge easily, her footing perfectly balanced despite the eroding stone. She was slender like the witch, with the twiggy arms and legs of a child. Her skin was luminous and pale like alabaster, her eyes the color of smoldering rubies, her hair the color of jet. Sinah was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her to be, even though she had grown considerably. However, Sebastian noticed that she shared a second attribute with the witch; the gaze which looked upon him was completely cold. Even for a demon, her look was chilling.

Sebastian felt his stony heart sink as the child's hand reached for the witch's reflexively. It seemed terribly unfair that it should be so. He looked back to the witch, face set in firm neutrality, "I remember my debt to you, witch."

"Then I ask for you to pay it." She said, "I have grown tired of waiting for you to return to pay it on your own."

Sebastian ventured a small smirk, "You didn't think I would?"

The witch looked down at the young girl beside her. How long had it been? How many years had passed without reparations? She had lost so much and gained so little through her sister's foolish contract with the demon below, "Sinah is almost nine years old, demon. If you hadn't come to repay your debt and claim her as your own, I knew you weren't going to."

"She's better off with you, woman." He growled and stood, gently resting Ciel's head against the stone as he rose, "Hell is no place for her!"

"Hell is no place for my sister, but that is where you put her!"

"I had no control over that, Relana!" he hissed venomously, surprised that he addressed her by name. The sound of it scared- yes scared him. It wasn't emotional fear, but rather the instinctual plea of self preservation which kept him from speaking it aloud. He knew it gave her power. "Your sister chose her fate when she chose me."

"You should not have let her do it!" Relana said flatly, refusing to enflame the situation further, "Now give me what you owe me and we can be done with it."

Relana jumped easily from her perch, landing with near silence at the base of the wall. Sinah dropped after her without a sound, her face unreadable as she kept her gaze fixed on Sebastian. Sebastian bowed his head in an uncharacteristically awkward greeting, "Hello, Sinah."

The girl did not respond, instead looking to Relana for clarification, "She doesn't know who you are." Relana said, "And even if she did, her heart beats as cold as her father's."

"Ah, so that is how it is," Sebastian sighed, "Then let us settle our account swiftly and we can both be on our way. Though I tell you now, I do not have much other than what you see on me."

"I know, but this was the only place I could track you to outside a contract," she explained, "And as you know, I cannot enter Hell."

"You could have sent Sinah," he offered politely.

"I don't know if Hell would accept her as a predator or prey," Relana responded, "It was not a risk I was willing to take."

From that statement alone, Sebastian knew the witch cared for the young girl at her side. Such a very human connection to one who was seemingly unaffected by its protection. Sebastian wondered how the girl internalized such devotion. But that was a thought for another day, "I don't even know what I can offer you in trade. You know I cannot give you what you really want."

"I know that," she admitted. "I knew that the day you took her from me to start with."

"I didn't take her."

"You did, demon. Don't argue it now or I will wipe your wretched existence from this world and the next."

She couldn't do that, he knew. But she could come close enough that he would be very uncomfortable for centuries to come. Witches were very meddlesome when they held true power. This one was one of the most practiced he had come across, though her compassion often limited her otherwise awe inspiring abilities.

Relana looked Sebastian over from head to foot, slowly taking inventory of his person. The clothes were finely made, but nothing she couldn't get easily in the human world. She doubted that he carried any money, though she wouldn't cheapen her sister's memory by settling the debt with something as material as that.

She glanced at the bench, allowing her eyes to wander over the boy, appreciating his beauty even as death's shadowy pallor set heavily on his features, "He made a contract with you?" she said. It was more of a statement than question.

"Ah, he did." Sebastian said, "Just shy of four years ago."

"And you upheld your end of it?"

"I did."

She faced Sebastian squarely, her gold flecked eyes smoldering with hate and remembrance for her sister, "And then you took his soul?"

"Yes, I have. Except the part that belongs to the Realm of Hell," Sebastian explained, "I cannot claim the part of him to be punished eternally."

Relana walked over to the bench casually, running her hand gently over the boy's cold cheek, "Why did he make a contract with you?"

"Revenge."

"What would a child know of revenge?" she asked, combing his hair away from his closed eyes.

"More than you realize," was his simple reply. Ciel knew more about revenge than many of the adults he had made a pact with. He also knew more about killing than nearly everyone he had made a contract with, his childish tendencies lending swift judgment to anyone who crossed him. To be fair, he had been damaged in a way few people could fathom. With no compassion or respite given to him, how was he expected to give it to others?

"Interesting," Relana mused, touching two fingers to Ciel's slightly parted lips. "I want him. Give him to me."

Sebastian stood in shock. Had he heard her correctly? Was it some sort of joke that she should ask for something that was not his to give? No, he thought to himself, it made sense that she should ask for something as convoluted as that, "What is left of him belongs to Hell."

"I don't care, Demon," she said, venom evident in her voice, "Hell does not have him yet. He is still in your possession. Give him to me."

"He's dead already," Sebastian said, "What more would you have me give you than his corpse?"

"Give me what is left of his soul, give me his life." She said, quietly, gently, "He gave it to you, after all, in his contract. Just give to me, what he gave to you."

"I do not deal in bringing people back to life."

"No, but I know you have connections in other places who can. Just think of it as a repair to something valuable."

"You should choose something else. This is going to get very complicated and-"

Relana pointed at him accusingly, causing him to take a step back, "Complicated for you, not for me. And don't worry," she smiled wickedly waggling her finger, "I don't cast spells with this anymore. You are so jumpy, demon."

"Only around you."

"I have no idea why that would be," she mocked. "But in all seriousness, I've decided that he is what I want. You can give me his life, or you can give me yours. I don't really care which, but if you're talking about complications, I think he is the easier of the two options. Your life is your life, but his soul? Well, it's just a commodity."

Sebastian glared at the witch as he considered his options. He would not lay down his life, obviously. He didn't care how great his debt was, or how giving up what was left of Ciel would affect his standings in Hell, his life was his own. But the other side of the coin was messy at best. The consequences he would bear for returning without Ciel's soul could be very bad and retrieving the pieces of Ciel's soul which he had consumed would be difficult as well. He was stuck and he didn't like it. If he hadn't made that mistake years before . . . No, it was not a mistake. If he hadn't accepted the witch's offer of life in exchange for. . .


	4. Chapter 4: Do you wish?

Commodities: Chapter 4

The ruins fell away and he could hear the ocean surf pounding in his ears, its stormy temper flowing around him. It was a heavy memory from before he was Sebastian, before there was Ciel. Sebastian could see himself clinging to the reef pitifully as the waves beat him against the coral, tearing at his hands. He remembered how helpless he had felt then, how incredibly human he seemed. A contract gone terribly wrong, broken at the worst moment, leaving him without the abilities he had been born with in the depths of Hell, almost human.

He remembered how the salt had stung his eyes. It was like unholy tears sent to blind him. He could almost feel the water in his nose, down his throat, closing everything down on him. Was this what it felt like to die? He was losing his grip on the reef, slipping farther and farther down. Would the waves be able to crush him against the rocks in his weakened state? Would sharks come to the scent of his strange blood? He remembered all the questions swimming in his delirium. How had it all gone so terribly wrong?

Then there was her, his stormy angel, skimming over the cresting waves like a moonbeam. The ocean bowed to her, parted for her, called to her like a lover. Its anger evaporated like foam on the morning tide. She came to his rescue and at the moment she reached her hand down to lift him out, he would have promised her anything, and he did.

He could still see her sea-lit eyes, such an intensely dark blue that the abyss itself would be envious of their depth. In his mind's eye he could still see her looking down at him with the strangely bright grey sky framing her beautiful face, "Do you wish for life?" she had asked him.

He could hear the reply on his lips even now, remembering the start of it all, "Yes."

"I will grant your wish, if you give me your love. Love me and I will save you."

It was the best and worst promise. It was the one thing he had never given anyone, could never give anyone. But in his moment of humanity he could feel it and he would give it to this woman freely. She knew what he was; she knew what it meant to link herself to a creature of the dark. She wanted it, wanted to be consumed by something outside her realm of light. And he wanted to live.

"I will…I will love you."

* * *

The slap sent him reeling as Relana wound up her other hand to come around the other side. Snapping back to the matter at hand, he caught her wrist easily, letting his unaffected mask fall back into place, "Do not touch me."

"You love nothing! You monster! You scavenger, dream killer, MURDERER!" Relana shouted, angry tears beginning their hot trek down her face. Had he said that aloud? That was a mistake.

"Don't touch me," he repeated lowly with adept indifference, "I am my own, now."

"You are nothing!" she hissed, pulling her hand back roughly, "Worthless Hell cur."

"Be that as it may, learn your limits Witch," was the flat reply, "I will honor my debts, but if you overstep your bounds again I may just decide that it's easier to kill you."

"You can't kill me."

"Can't I? I don't think anyone will know the difference," he smirked, "Your soul is so far off the map."

She turned her back to him, striding back to the bench in a flurry of black feathers. The blue glass beads which hung just behind her ear clacked eagerly as she moved. Sea glass, he thought to himself, from her sister. It had to be, since blue was not her color.

He watched passively as she scooped Ciel's limp body into her arms. It looked so odd for her to pick him up, slender as she was. He must have been heavy to her, though she did an excellent job of hiding it.

"What do you plan to do with him?" Sebastian asked.

"This," she nodded to the body in her arms, "Is collateral. You will make arrangements for the rest."

"And just where are you going with your collateral?"

"The Isle," she said. "You know where it is, demon. You were there once before, shipwrecked and half drowned." She narrowed her gold-flecked eyes, "If I had known your treachery, I would have made sure you were left in the sea! You would not have had the chance to-"

Sebastian bowed deeply, "I know. I will make the necessary arrangements. Forgive the tardiness of my repayment."

It felt like he was at the Phantomhive manor again, apologizing to his master or to a guest. The lingering manners he picked up there were useful, he thought to himself. It was not intentional, but just as when he was there; it silenced whoever was making a fuss. Humans were so predictable like that. Still, just as in those other times he bowed his head in proper subservient posture, his dark nature wanted to burn them all alive, listen to their screams. Even Ciel had brought the edge of that desire out I him. It was not anger or hatred, nothing emotional, just a trigger to his nature.

"Do not take long," she warned, "The ice cave will only slow his decay so much and if he deteriorates too much, I will not accept anything less than your own life."

"Your price is high, witch."

Wind spiraled around the women, lifting leaves and dirt into the air around them. Through the spiral Relana replied, "Not as high as the price I paid," and with that she and Sinah were gone. In their wake, two ravens chased the wind upward, one with a small grey mouse in its talon.

Sebastian watched them go, in awe of her power despite himself. He could shift to a point, but it took a lot more effort and was much more limited. She had natural power, like her sister. It was the power of the Earth itself, woven to her whims. Apparently Sinah had it too, though the compassionate inner light that her mother carried did not transfer to her. And as Sebastian could see, the inner light Relana had when he had first met her, was all but gone. Perhaps he was a monstrous as she believed him to be. But then, as he thought of Ciel in her arms, chattel to her vengeance, he wondered if she was perhaps a monster too.


	5. Chapter 5: London

Commodities: Chapter 5

There he was again, walking the cobblestone streets of London as if he had never left. The buildings lay in jagged ruins all around him, but he kept the same detached air as if he was passing shops waiting to open in the misty morning. It all seemed to be the same to him, carnage or order just shifted back and forth like a pendulum in time. It swung to build one decade and destroy the next, keeping perfect time to the ages of man. Honestly though, Sebastian preferred the order to the chaos.

The smell from rising from the street was a nauseating mix of ash and rotting flesh, with the decidedly acidic stench of burnt blood wafting on the moist morning breeze. It did not smell unlike places in Hell he had been, but it was not a mix of smells Sebastian enjoyed either. He would tolerate it as long as he needed to, given that his only reason for being able to cross back into the human realm was a contractual technicality. Otherwise he would have had to been summoned back.

"Well how interesting," a voice from the ally chirped as Sebastian passed by, "I thought the little dog was dead."

Sebastian smiled wickedly to himself. Who knew that he could be such good bait, even in the aftermath of a disaster, "Grell Sutcliff," he purred, "I thought I might find you here."

"Well of course," the other said, stepping confidently from the shadows. He held his chainsaw loosely by his side as he walked, looking cheerful but tired. He raised his narrow shoulders and smiled a toothy grin, "I've been here all night, cleaning up souls of the dearly departed."

Sebastian appraised Grell from head to foot, then let his gaze wander back to his face. He knew the Shinigami saw him do it by the flush that rose to the godling's cheeks. It was the perfect setup. "You look like a complete mess."

It was strange how those few words from the demon changed his mood. Grell cast his eyes down self consciously, uncharacteristically embarrassed. He hadn't given it much thought when he saw Sebastian in the street, but now he really wished he hadn't been so hands on with his work. He was covered in gritty ash from head to toe, with dark smudges across his cheeks and nose. His usually crisp red and white neck tie was loose and uneven, twisted around itself and stained with soot. He knew his shirt was a sad sight and was pretty sure he had lost a button from his vest at some point during the night. Grell pulled his red coat close around his shoulders with his free hand, his usual vivacious spirit cowed, "So, where is the little Earl?"

Sebastian let a small smile play along his lips, "It's funny you should ask, actually."

* * *

"I absolutely can't do that, Sebastian, not even for you." Grell said hotly, shoving his back against the alley wall and crossing his arms. "I would be out of a job."

"You never seemed concerned with it before, seeing as you helped murder all those women." Sebastian countered easily. "Jack the Ripper."

"I was infatuated," he pouted. "You can't hold me responsible for that. I am a creature of temptation, easily led astray."

Sebastian closed the distance between them, swiftly untying the striped ribbon which lived around Grell's neck before securing it in a perfect bow beneath the collar of the shinigami's shirt, "Ah so then, can I lead you astray? If you are such a creature as you claim, it should be easy for me to unyoke you."

A warm shiver prickled Grell's skin at the prospect. The demon was so dangerous and because of that, so attractive. Grell met Sebastian's smoldering gaze carefully. He wanted to give in so badly and the other knew it. That small familiar smile curved against the edge of the demon's mouth said so, satisfied as a cat.

In his mouth, Grell ran his tongue against the pointed tips of his teeth nervously. He would have given anything for this to happen a year ago. But the consequences for masquerading as Jack the Ripper were still fresh in his mind with that strike already on his record; he realized losing his job would just be a small footnote to the real punishment. There was one other problem.

"I don't know how to do it,"

"Ah," was Sebastian's only response. Yes, that was certainly a problem.

"I mean," Grell said quickly, "It's possible. When a soul is devoured it doesn't get destroyed. I just don't know how to get to it, you know?"

"If you could do it, would you?" Sebastian asked dangerously.

"I can't," Grell whispered pitifully, shrinking against the ally wall. His green eyes pleaded for easier decisions. He was no good at the complexities of choice and consequence. His spontaneous nature abhorred weighing options.

Sebastian cleared his throat, stepping away from Grell with two measured steps, "I can see I'm wasting my time and yours as well."

Grell reached after him with one slender hand, "No, it's not like that."

"It is," Sebastian said.

There was finality in his tone that made Grell's fingertips go numb in the most uncomfortable way, "Why do you need him alive anyway? I was under the impression that-"

Sebastian cut him off, "If you are unable to help me, I need to be on my way."

Grell's eyes grew wide, "You didn't fall in LOVE with that brat, did you?"

Sebastian gave him a withering look, "No, I certainly did not."

And he hadn't. Ciel was tragic, but the heartstrings of a demon didn't work like that. If he had loved the boy he wouldn't have consumed his soul. That seemed obvious to Sebastian, but the low pulse of jealousy radiating from the green-eyed shinigami before him said it wasn't that obvious to him.

He knew what love was, once. Didn't he? Did he? It seemed like such a strange blur in his past. He wasn't supposed to love, and yet it happened. It happened…

Sebastian was no longer looking at him, his gaze focused somewhere in the distance beyond the alley wall. There were memories there, roiling to the surface like billowy smoke. Grell could almost see them as he stood waiting for Sebastian to come back to the moment. What amazing footage it would be to, this memory. There was a twinge of pleasure at the thought of cutting into his memories again, finding whatever was making the demon look so defenseless.

"The sea is my wishing stone," she had said. "Whenever I need something, I wish for the sea to bring it to me, and it does."

Sebastian remembered this day vividly. It was cold up on the bluffs with a stiff wind picking up from the North. The sea grass bent heavily against the gale, bowing in homage to the coming rainstorm. Heavy clouds swirled high above him, a steel grey sky against a steel grey ocean. It was not unlike the day he had come to this place. The only difference being that the storm was building, not ending.

Her hair was as wild as her soul, tumbling with the wind in damp curls around her head. He remembered the feel as he tucked some behind her ear. He wanted to see her face.

She smiled at him, turning to kiss his hand as he reached for her. There was no darkness for him that day. Even the oncoming squall was made beautiful by her company. This was love, wasn't it? This was his promise to her.

"Does the sea bring you everything you ask for?" He had asked, leaning against her. He could feel her skin against his own, warm despite the weather. She was always warm, always comforting to him. Was this what meant to be removed from Hell? So have no link to the dark? Was this peace?

"I think so," she said thoughtfully, "But sometimes when I ask, I don't what I asked for in the way I expected."

"How interesting," he purred, settling his head against her thigh affectionately. To this day he remembered her feel of her delicate fingers on his hair, petting him gently. There was nothing like it in the world, or in any world. When he had met Ciel he had tried to convey that sort of feeling, to serve him by easing his troubled heart. The boy had only been made uncomfortable by his touch. Except at the end…

"When I was younger I read a story about pirates. It had adventure and fighting and treasure. It was a really good book."

"Sounds like it," he commented lightly, looking up at her with a smile.

"So I asked the sea for pirate treasure."

"You are on an island," he chuckled, "That seems like an easy wish."

"Yeah," she grinned, "But the sea didn't bring me a treasure chest or a pirate ship or anything like that."

"It brought you treasure though?" he asked, intrigued that the ocean would listen to the whims of a young girl. It seemed unlikely.

"Yeah," her smile grew wider, "I was digging on the shore about a week later and found a big piece of amber!"

"What luck," he said, "What else have you asked for?"

"I asked for a dog, once," she admitted.

How universally human, he had thought. They all wanted a dog at one point or another in their lives.

"But it didn't happen," she said, looking a little sad, "A rat washed ashore though after a storm a couple days later instead."

"Oh my, a rat." He said in mock surprise.

"I took it in and nursed it back to health though. He was a really good pet!" she explained, "He would come when he was called, sit up for treats, and fetch things for me. He was even better than a dog."

That was one of the things he remembered most about her; her unmatched love of all things. It didn't matter that it had been a rat and not a dog, or that she didn't get a chest of gold coins. She loved honestly.

"Was I something you asked for?" he asked, gently reaching up to touch her lips with his fingers. She had such beautiful lips.

"Yes," she said, her voice low and soft, "I asked for love, and the sea gave me you."

"Hm," he said thoughtfully, looking out over the swirling tide. It wasn't quite like that. They had made a deal, an exchange for his life. As a demon, that was one thing he understood very very well.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, following his gaze out to sea. "Our love is a contract. And it is that, but it is like the amber. Just because it didn't come in the obvious way, doesn't make it less of a treasure."

Love, a treasure, fleeting as winter sun through the clouds. Never obvious, never perfect. But this was perfect to him. Was it love? Did he uphold their contract; was he able to carry such an emotion? He felt it, and it seemed so. But what did he know.

"You are my love, you are my treasure." She sang, "You are the loyal wolf at my side. We howl, howl at the moon together and as it sets we take flight. You are my love you are my treasure. You are the tea leaves in my cup. We read, read our fortunes together with our destiny in sight. You are my love, you are my…"

A loud voice interrupted his thoughts, "Hello there!?"

Reality snapped back with a flash, melting his memory as quickly as a snowflake on the hand. It was so unfair.

"I don't know where your head wandered off to, but it's rather rude to just ignore me."

Grell wasn't expecting the darkness which settled heavily in Sebastian's stare as it refocused on him. It was the first time the shinigami had seen anything so true to the demon's true nature revealed. The neutrality was gone, replaced with the bitter remains of an unfulfilled life of immortality. It made Grell want to run, actually. It made him realize just how dangerous Sebastian was.

"I'm sorry," Grell said reflexively, scooting along the wall to put a little distance between them, "That was rude of me."

Sebastian looked away, running a hand through his dark hair, "You are absolutely worthless."

The redhead closed his eyes and tilted his head forward, chin resting against his chest. He was hearing that a lot lately; how burdensome he was, useless and in the way. He had an important job, didn't he? How could he be so unhelpful when he had such a vital role in human death?

He always let insults slide off his back. He knew who he was and he was comfortable with that. Even when Sebastian had insulted him in the past, he had ignored it. Better than ignored, he could almost find some of it complimentary. So why did it sting so much now? He didn't even know. Maybe it was the long night of work. He was tired.

"I have work to do," he mumbled, "Goodbye Sebastian."

He opened his eyes for the other's reply, only to find the demon was already gone. How typical of his kind, though not typical for him as an individual. Something was really bothering him to show such disrespect. That, or a lot of the traits Grell associated with him were footnotes to his contract with Ciel, not his natural disposition.

"Stupid brat," he said sourly, thinking of Ciel. No one was around to hear him, but he didn't care. The more he dwelled, the more obvious it seemed. There had been something more between that boy and his butler. Maybe it wasn't love, but it was more than Sebastian was letting on. He knew he shouldn't care. But it was frustrating that a twelve year old human could get closer to the demon than he could; especially when he and Sebastian were much more similar to one another, maybe not in personality, but in situation. They were both immortals, right?

Hefting his chainsaw across his shoulder, Grell sulked back into depressing alley. Wispy smoke stains climbed the brickwork like claw marks. They may as well have been, given the carnage at the dead end. A group of children had taken a wrong turn in the chaos of the fire, dashing down the alley in hopes of escaping the inferno. Instead all the did was manage to trap themselves as it all burned around them, their only escape route blocked behind them by a falling beam from one of the roof overhangs.

Grell did not enjoy reaping children. For the most part they weren't particularly good, or particularly bad. They were just a collection of short mundane memories. When they were good children, the memories were usually about sharing. When they were bad, the memories were almost always about stealing or lying. It was nothing that piqued Grell's interest in the least. The only interesting bits happened when some unlucky kid had something bad done to them, and that was only so entertaining for so long. When Grell had said he had work, he meant it. The cinematic records were going to be as dry and boring as toast without butter.


	6. Chapter 6: The 3rd Day

Commodities: Chapter 6

Relana watched silently from the doorway as Sinah drifted off to sleep. The glow cast by her nightlight softened her porcelain features, reminding Relana of her sister. The girl had her sister's round cheeks and wide eyes, tempered only slightly by the demon's more angular looks. When she was awake, Sinah looked much more like her father. The slender jaw line and swan-like neck was not her sister's, they were his. The unreadable expression the girl wore most of the time was also her father's, neutral and observant, like she was processing the situation as a spectator rather than a participant.

She had been that way since she was born; the ever quiet watcher. It used to make Relana uneasy but she came to terms with it. Sinah was not what she would have chosen for her sister, but it was what her sister had chosen for herself. For that reason alone she would be loved. She was all Relana had left as family.

The nightlight on the bedside table turned slowly in the dark, casting spotty shadows across the room. It was the amber her sister had found years earlier, crafted atop a curving base of driftwood sunk into a bowl of dark soil. From the bowl, tiny vine tendrils wound their way up the wood, holding it together. The vine's leaves were as small as fingernails, soaking up the light cast by the amber. Small purple flowers dotted here and there, each flickering softly with their own glow. The amber was suspended from a piece of driftwood that curved up elegantly above the rest like a crescent moon, held by a single thread of the vine.

Relana remembered crafting the light well. It had taken her days to weave the magic around it, and days more to make the fragile vines grow like she wanted. The light was a gift of love to her sister, an acceptance of her decision to be with… him. It was a wedding gift.

As it lit the young girl's bedroom, Relana felt a familiar pang of resentment towards the demon. If he had kept his end of the contract properly, she could have been happy enough for her sister. But for it to have come apart so thoroughly, so violently, she could never forgive him.

Relana turned away, quietly closing the door behind her. It was like shutting away the painful ache that still coursed through her when she thought of that day, when she thought about how her sister had died. She held her breath, letting it out very slowly. That was enough thinking for one night. Still, there was one more thing she needed to check on before she left for England.

* * *

The chill of the ice cave washed over her as she entered, despite her heavy sealskin cloak. It seemed no matter how warmly she dressed, the cave was always colder. It was a good thing, considering what she used it for, but it didn't make her any warmer. She walked swiftly down the narrow tunnel which led to the main cavern, careful to balance herself on the frozen floor with each swift step.

The ice crystals glimmered around her as she passed, chromatic colors dancing off the sharp facets like rainbow fire. Relana barely noticed, glancing at them only to make sure the colors were indeed ice, and not an intruder lurking amongst their beautiful spires. There would have only been one being to intrude of course, and if she found him here she would kill him where he was found; or die trying. This was her sister's sanctuary and he was not welcome there, not while it was in Relana's keeping.

Entering the main cavern was like what Relana imagined Heaven must be like, and given her chosen life, was about as close as she would ever get to it. Clear ice rivened with milky swirls danced all along the walls and domed ceiling. Moonlight filtered through the clear ice at the center of the dome, shifting from the waves high above on the ocean's surface. The cavern itself was under water, protected from the sea by stone and coral, but here was the one place that allowed the light to come in. It bounded off the floor and across the walls, bathing the whole room in beautiful silver light. As the beams wavered through the water, slivers of blue and purple glimmered on the ice as well, a beautiful broken spectrum. In the day time the light would be more golden, but to her the night's cool colors suited it much better. She didn't know how her sister had managed to build such a place with her powers, or how it managed to continue on after she had died. Whatever the reason, it was the place Relana felt most at peace with her sister's passing. But it was also where she felt most alone. Her feelings were as strange and contradictory as the ice which surrounded her.

Relana neared the dais at the center of the cavern, peering over the coffin-like edge at the boy within. He lay with his arms crossed gently over his chest, covered in a fine layer of frost. His clothes also bore the touch of cold, making him look like he was completely clad in velvet. Relana gently pushed his bangs away from his closed eyes, wondering who he was and how he came to such a tragic end, especially so young.

The demon had said he was thirteen, barely at the edge of his journey into adulthood. However in death, with the ashen pallor heavy on his features, he looked incredibly young. Ciel's round cheeks and pouty lips were still very boyish. His body was also very small and slim. There was actually nothing about him which would hint at a maturity which she knew must have been there. Children did not make deals with demons, they were scared of them.

"What was so terrible that you sold your soul away?" She asked, running her fingers down his cold cheek lovingly, "What was so scary that you found comfort in a monster like him?"

Of course Ciel did not answer. He lay there in his absolute stillness, an enigma and her single pawn. He was the only thing the demon could give her that she might have found redemption in. It wasn't that he was important as an individual, it just meant the demon would have to starve a little longer. It would be his missed meal and who knew how long it would be before he could make a contract for another.

Pulling away from the boy she was bitterly pleased with herself. Even if it only made the demon uncomfortable temporarily, she would have gotten a soul in trade for the loss of her sister's. It was not enough, not then nothing ever would be. But in a case such as this, she was willing to take what she could get. And who knew, maybe the boy's revival would somehow ease the pain in her heart.

* * *

Sebastian watched the sunrise from the exposed roof truss of the Phantomhive manor. He sat with his back against one of the massive chimneys still standing after the fire, feet propped against the charred wood of the roof. The red light streaming across the fields matched the frustration in his mind. The one person he thought he may have found a solution with was every bit as stupid as he should have assumed he would be, even at his own job. Who knew being a reaper took so little actual knowledge about souls.

He had gone to the undertaker as well, who probably wisely, pretended to not know who he was or what he wanted. He didn't even want to hear the jokes Sebastian had to barter with. He didn't want anything to do with it. It was his roundabout way of protecting Sebastian, he guessed, because it certainly wasn't out of fear. The protocol for a demon "off leash" as William would put it, asking to start making changes to a soul's destiny, probably ended with the death of the demon. That, and getting Hell involved with its dues concerning the soul in question would put the shinigami at risk. Heaven, Hell, and the Shinigami steered clear of each other for a reason. Each did not want their business interrupted, and each was unsure who would win if it actually came to full scale blows. They dealt with each other on very standardized and professional levels to keep things clean. It was a balancing act. One which that psychotic angel had tried to disrupt.

It was the dawn of the third day and Sebastian knew any minute now she would come. She was very good at keeping track of time, especially when it affected her. It was something he had always liked about her, actually. They were similar like that, practiced at perfection and timing. It was not such an admirable attribute when he was not able to procure what he needed to.

Red turned to orange and then to gold as the fiery sun rose higher in the sky. It was a beautiful symphony of light, so unlike Hell, and yet he could not enjoy its beauty at all. He had once upon a time, with her, but that was different. Now as the sun climb, the seconds only ticked closer to that inevitable conversation he would have. The outcome of that conversation would not bode well for him, he was sure.

What was he supposed to do, just let her kill him? No, that would never do. And yet what other options did he have? His only trade was an item he couldn't get to. Could he offer her something else? What would satisfy her anger? With a dark growl he sighed, realizing that there wasn't anything else she wanted. She wanted him to suffer any way she could. To offer her anything else, regardless of value, that would not cause him discomfort, would be unacceptable.

Sebastian looked away from the bright glow of the East, down into the ruined mansion below. He could tell he was over the music room from the piano keys that lay half buried in the ash below. It had been such a beautiful instrument, even by his standards. In a way it was much like Ciel. The boy was human, just as the piano had been an object. Both had been beautiful, and now even though all the pieces were there to make both whole again, they were not in a form where that was possible. Well, that wasn't entirely true.

Sebastian dropped with cat-like grace into the mansion, barely disturbing the dust as he landed. The air smelled different than it had in London. The stench which was so unpleasant was completely absent. Only the smell of wood fire and soil came though, giving these ruins a much less threatening feel.

He once had resurrected the entire building at Ciel's request, returning it to its exact former glory. It had been quite a feat, even by his standards. The mansion was enormous and it had taken a lot of power rebuild it all. It was one of the few moments in his contract where Sebastian had wondered if he had made a mistake. Was his young master going to ask him to do things like that all the time? If he was, a single soul was not going to nourish him in the end.

With a swift scuff across the floor, Sebastian sent a cloud of debris flying into the air. A flick of his wrist sent the dust to where the piano had stood and with a dissonant shiver of noise, the keys shot up from the floor and resituated to a straight line as the dust coalesced around them.

"There, that is better," Sebastian said aloud, admiring the newly repaired mahogany piano. It felt a little strange repairing a human thing when he had no master ordering him to, but it was such a fine instrument. If only putting Ciel back together was so easy.

Sebastian lifted the piano seat from the ashes as well, forming it grain by grain from the ash like a zombie from the grave. With a soft clunk it rose just above the floor before settling upon it. He sat upon it, resting his elbow on the newly remade key lid. Idly he realized that even if he got the witch what she wanted, there was an issue of feeding himself. Almost four years without food had made him very hungry. The thought of going longer was an unpleasant one. Usually with any contract over five years he had… supplemented. He hated doing that though.

* * *

A single raven flew through the golden rays, jet black against the brilliant daylight. Her iridescent wings glimmered with deep purple and green as the light hit them, showing her majestic beauty. She hacked at the breeze with her wings, veering on an updraft before coasting down towards the rooftops of the city. She dodged around naked chimneys of broken blacked bricks with great precision, never clipping the edges. She noted that the demon was not where she had expected him. There were still traces of his passage along the roads below, echoing like thin heat waves. She followed it through the twisting mess that had been London, focusing like a bloodhound on the scent. It hadn't been too long since he had come through.

As she passed overhead Grell felt a cold jolt run down his spine, making the hair on his neck stand on end. She was not something he expected to run into as he finished the tail end of his work in the city. He looked up from the street just in time to see the raven disappear over the edge of a roof. What was a witch doing here? Generally they kept to their own element and that certainly meant away from urban areas, even ruined ones.

She traced the rooftop with her wings, following the slope down before beating her wings back from the edge. Her talons hit the ruined gutter before she was able to take a step back and transform. Her feathers fell away in a twisting flurry before disappearing at her feet. She was her true self again, wrapped in a gauzy green dress and leather boots. Flicking the hood of her cloak over her head she crouched down. She knew the man below had seen her, she felt his eyes touch upon her like arrows. It wouldn't have mattered except for two very strange things. He was an immortal and he reeked of the demon she hunted.

"I wonder if he knows where to find him," she queried softly to herself.

Grell glanced back to where the raven had flown several times as he continued on his way. It wasn't that he was afraid, but very wary of her presence. His mind told him that whatever she wanted was not where he was. Yet there was the lingering presence.

He didn't have much time to consider her reasoning as he was knocked face first into the ground. The force behind it was enough to make him see stars as he struck. He felt one sinewy leg sweep his legs completely out from beneath him as the other dug a boney knee between his shoulder blades. He had been wrong to assume such a feral creature would pass him quietly.

Grell scrambled to get his arms beneath him. If he could just buck her off he'd be able to fight back. Where was his death scythe? His question was answered quickly as a hand grabbed a hand full of hair and jerked his head back. Through the sparking pain he saw his weapon lying several feet away and to his horror, felt the razor thin edge of hers graze the soft flesh of his neck.

The voice which followed was chillingly calm, "If you keep struggling, I'll kill you without a second thought."

Grell chuckled, his voice awkward from the angle of his neck, "I am a reaper, a simple knife isn't going to do much to me."

She pulled his hair harder, exposing as much of his vulnerable neckline as she could. Her blade slid down to his collarbone and back up with a dry hiss, "I guess it's a good thing this isn't a 'simple knife', reaper."

Grell felt her shift atop him, bringing her other leg forward to pin his shoulders with more finality. He didn't get the feeling from the bony limbs poking against him that she was very big, however the feral vibe rolling off her in powerful swells told him that she was very serious.

"I won't take a lot of your time, if you're helpful." She said slowly, placing emphasis on each word I turn as if he may have had trouble understanding her, "So, I suggest you make yourself useful to me."

"This is a very bad way to ask for someone's assistance," Grell croaked.

He winced as she gave a hard jerk on his head, "Helpful, useful," she reminded sternly.

"What do you want?"

"You smell like a demon I am looking for," She said, "Why is that?"

Grell grinned despite himself. This must have been some of the trouble Sebastian had gotten himself into. This wasn't about Ciel at all. It made his childish heart glad. Still, this woman seemed a lot worse than the thought of a tryst with the Phantomhive boy.

When he didn't answer immediately, Relana brought her hunting knife close under his jaw, tensing her muscles in readiness. Killing a reaper was not something she was concerned with. It would take more man power to punish her for it than they could easily muster. Unless this particular reaper was someone important, his death would be written off as a loss. With him pinned like a cat in the talons of an owl, his own claws and teeth useless, she highly doubted he was anyone of consequence.

She began to press the blade against his neck, "No, no, no," Grell squealed, "I know who you're talking about." The knife eased away, but the redhead could feel a solid rivulet of blood trickle down his neck and catch in the hollow of his throat. The witch wasn't lying, the knife had real power.

"Where can I find him?" she asked, releasing just a little pressure on his hair so he could speak a little more easily.

"Can I ask why you're looking for him?" Grell purred suggestively. He couldn't help but want to know the drama. Scary as this woman was proving to be, it was in his blood to be curious.

"You may not," she growled, slamming his face into the ground roughly before pulling it back again.

Grell felt the familiar drip of blood lacing over his upper lip. The bitch had made his nose bleed. He was feeling less and less helpful, but the thought of answering her and going somewhere quiet to nurse his bleeding face was extremely appealing, "I don't know for sure where he's at," Grell started, trying to catch a glimpse of the witch out of the corner of his eye. She was too far behind him though, "But if you go North, out of the city, you'll find where his last contract resided, Phantomhive Manor. He's probably around there, if he hasn't returned to Hell already."

"He hasn't," she said flatly, moving to stand over the prostrate reaper. He was a very strange soul collector, she realized. His clothes, his hair, everything was definitely different. Even his tall lanky build was unlike any other reaper she had met. Maybe they were going through some changes at the ministry. It seemed unlikely though.

She sheathed her knife, "You have been helpful enough to spare, but I have one more question."

Beneath her, Grell cautiously rolled to his side and looked up. It was still hard to see her backlit by the sun as her legs boxed him in, "What is it?"

"What is a reaper, a shinigami, doing in the company of a demon? It seems very unsavory."

Grill smiled a toothy grin, reaching one hand up to shield his eyes from the light, "I'm just that sort of woman," he said teasingly.

Relana arched one delicate brow as he said 'woman', but really didn't want to know. She half dismissed it as a result of his head being cracked against the street. Still, this was a strange one.

"Ah," was all she could think to say.

In a spray of dancing wind she was back on the wing, leaving a very confused Grell Sutcliff far below. He traced her flight up with his cat-green eyes, losing her as she passed over the rooftops once more.

He frowned deeply, pushing himself into a sitting position. He pulled his knees to his chest and gingerly rested his head against them. He could feel the cooling blood that made his shirt cling to him and felt his nose drip against the fabric of his pants. He didn't move to stop it. He was already a tired mess, what did it matter?


	7. Chapter 7: Enlisted

Commodities: Chapter 7

The Manor was easy to find, looming impressively over the fields even after the recent fire. The stone walls reached in crumbling spires toward the remains of the roof like fingers of a fallen Atlas, desperate to keep the world up. Relana could feel his essence surrounding the structure, a dark ember storm of his power. He was definitely there, but it was more than that. She realized that the whole mansion was his work, before the fire had destroyed it.

Even for a demon as strong as him, an undertaking like that must have been very impressive to behold. As much as she hated him, she could still appreciate his abilities. She guessed that was part of what her sister had seen in him. He was like the ocean, eternal and wild, beautiful and frightening. If things had happened differently, Relana knew her sister would have been. . . But the past was the past, and there was nothing to be done about it. He was like the ocean . . . uncaring of what was destroyed in his wake.

As she flew overhead she saw him, shadowed by the roof beams below. His jet black hair was even darker than the fire's char. He looked up at her, pushing his long bangs away from his face. As he peered through the wooden beams with his exotic brown eyes she couldn't help but draw the parallels between him and Sinah. The girl was very much like her father, even though every time Relana saw her, she hoped to see more than just the smallest passing glimpse of her sister there. It was only when she slept that there was.

Relana dropped sharply, transforming well before she hit the floor. The heavy planked floorboards clacked as she landed, sending a thick plume of ash into the air around her. She could see him clearly through the haze, only feet from her, "It has been three days, demon."

Sebastian lifted his chin, feigning aloofness even as a twinge of worry crept through him, "I need more time. If you still insist on the boy's soul-"

"And his life," Relana added sharply. She was not about to be cheated.

"And his life," Sebastian added calmly, "Then I need you to be patient."

"I've been patient," she hissed, drawing her knife to point in emphasis, "You have run free for almost a decade while I was patient. I should have killed you that day."

"If you had been given the chance, I'm sure you would have tried."

There was that. She hadn't actually been given the opportunity to slay him, "Then shall I call your tab here? Now? Shall I take the opportunity while I have it?"

"While I have my principles, I will not allow you to kill me," he warned. "You would most likely find it less satisfying than you think anyhow. It's not like I would scream or cry or give you the pleasure of any humanesque reaction."

"Still," she spat, "It could be worth it at this point."

He cocked his head to the side, letting his dark hair spill across his face mischievously, "Let's not break any more promises."

It was a low blow and they both knew it. Relana took a step back, sheathing her knife as if the blade burned her. She couldn't believe he had said that, actually said it! "I hate you," she said quietly, "I hate you and I hate you and I hate you."

"I'm aware that you do," he admitted, "And I'm trying to get you what you want. So give me the time I need. The boy's body isn't going to rot in the ice, you know it as well as I."

"He could easily rot."

"He won't," Sebastian assured her, "Your sister wove a strong magic I can barely grasp into that place. I know you fear her power will fade and it will be destroyed, but it won't. The only complication with the boy will be his health and I think that is going to be delicate regardless."

Relana looked away, focusing on the ruins around her, "Who was he?"

"Someone who lost everything, and then returned only to lose even more," Sebastian said cryptically. He really didn't want to get into the particulars, not with her and not right then. "When this is settled, perhaps we can talk more about him."

"How long?" she asked.

"I don't know," he sighed quietly, leaning against the piano with his hands, "Not too long though, I assure you. You are making me quite desperate and uncomfortable; you should enjoy the lengths I have to go to."

Relana gave him a half smile edged in bitterness, "I suppose I should." She turned on heel and walked away from him, "I will wait on the Isle then. Come when you have it."

"Thank you," he said. He really didn't want to thank her, but it unfortunately was appropriate.

"And demon," she said, a knowing smile broad across her face, "I am not bound to my principles like you are. If you can't give me what I've asked for, I really will kill you. I know how to do it now."

Her final words sunk like lead within him. She could have technically, probably killed him if she had given it enough resolve. He had just doubted her ability to put the effort in. For her to know how to achieve it properly meant he stood much less of a chance. He hated how a human could wield that sort of power against him, but more than that, he hated that he was put into a position to have the witch eager to use it on him.

"Farewell," she waved, cawing manically as she climbed back into the sky.

"I say you should just kill her," offered a voice from behind the burned remains of the external wall, "That woman is bad news."

Sebastian didn't turn around. Instead he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the raven growing smaller and smaller on the horizon, "I am well aware of that, Grell Sutcliff."

Grell hopped over the low point of the broken wall and took a few steps into the ruined room, "I'm flattered that you knew it was me."

"I could smell you," Sebastian sighed. He brought one gloved hair to his face, dragging his fingers down in annoyance.

Grell flipped a slender hand through his hair haughtily, "I don't know whether I should take that as an insult or a compliment."

"I have no reason to flatter you," Sebastian replied easily. He was out of the music room in two strides, walking purposefully towards what had been the kitchen, "You smell like carrion," he added dryly.

Grell's expression soured at Sebastian's remark. He knew he wasn't looking his best, but the insult seemed unnecessary. He had been working without rest for days in that wretched city, surely the demon could cut him some slack for it, "It's not like this is how I prefer to smell."

Sebastian didn't hear him. He had already started down the stone steps leading to what had been the wine cellar. The wooden banister had burned, as had the dark wood paneling which lined the walls. Debris that had fallen from above during the fire littered the floor, but as he stepped lower, less and less damage was evident.

Grell followed after the demon quickly, eager to find out more about the situation. He picked his way through the once grand hallway, giving a sideways glance to the warped cookware in the kitchen. He remembered playing his part as a butler here, his failure at it. He had meant to play the opposite of his natural persona as Madame Red's servant, but there were tasks along the way which had actually stumped him. It had been embarrassing, acting role or not.

Grell hopped down the cellar steps, keeping one gloved hand against the sooty wall for balance, "Really though, Sebby," The pet name sounded odd and unfitting now that Sebastian was no longer under contract. It made him much more dangerous and from the short conversations he had with him thus far, much less forgiving, "Why not just get rid of her? She was a disrespectful little tart!"

Farther down the tunnel Grell could hear the clanking of glass bottles, "It's really none of your business."

Rounding the bottom step, Grell scanned the darkness warily. Rather than burning, the cellar had simply been covered by what had lain above it, buried like a dog's bone. The air was thick and hazy with dust.

The last time he had been in the mansion it looked very different. The crisscrossed wine shelves had been beautifully polished oak, wine bottles arranged with librarian precision. With a few broken bottles on the floor and the fire's dirty fallout, it looked much more like a dungeon.

Grell ventured a few steps in, stopping when he heard the crunch of glass beneath his boot. It probably wasn't a very good idea to go too far, especially with Sebastian in such a mood, "I'm just curious, considering you asked for my help."

"Which you said you couldn't give me," Sebastian countered, appearing out of the gloom with several bottles of wine in hand.

"It's a big risk for me," the reaper said, "Even if I knew what I was doing, I could really face some ugly punishment for tampering with the natural order."

"I doubt it could be worse than what happened with Madame Red."

Grell crossed his arms protectively, "It would be a lot worse. William played interference for me on that and as much as I would love to say it's because he is fond of me, he only did it because we're so short on agents. He wouldn't do it again, I'm sure."

"If he was able to protect you, then you must not have been facing any serious punishment."

"Uh yeah," Grell croaked, turning away, He didn't want to tell Sebastian about that whole ugly experience. He could feel his back begin to burn at the memory. While it could have been a lot worse, his punishment had been bad enough.

Grell grit his teeth and fought the urge to reach for the scar on his back. William had intentionally only protected him so far. He made sure it wouldn't affect his ability to work, that was about it.

Sebastian watched Grell intently, weighing his options. He was sure that the person he was going to see next would have the answers he needed, but to get the job done he would still need a reaper. Grell really was his only option for that, sadly.

The wine he had recovered would make a nice peace offering. Skoll was very fond of it. The problem was, Skoll was not very fond of uninvited company. Not that he had a lot of options for that either.

Sebastian sighed in resignation. No matter how he worked around it, he still needed Grell's help. The shinigami's ignorance was a small issue in comparison to his inborn ability to do what needed to be done. He just needed to be taught how to do it. As for his hesitation about getting involved, Sebastian knew Grell could be convinced. The reaper was a creature of temptation and passion. Logic only had a foothold as long as his fickle nature allowed it to.

"I can't kill her because of two things," Sebastian offered, ready to work on Grell's fragile resolve, "If you still want to know."

"Hm?" Grell said quietly, bringing his hands together so that he could tap the tips of his index fingers together. "Yeah, I am really curious. It seems unlike you to let someone treat you like that. She wasn't the least bit concerned."

"I made a promise to her," he began, "And unfortunately, I failed to keep it. So I am in her debt for not taking my life because of it."

That wasn't completely accurate and he knew it. The only reason she hadn't taken his life that day was because she hadn't been given the chance. He was absolutely sure that she would have killed him, given the opportunity.

"A contract?"

"No, it was a promise." Sebastian corrected, "I am a creature of principles as you know. A promise must be kept, just as a contract must be upheld."

Grell snorted wryly, not sharing Sebastian's perspective, "If you already broke the promise, I don't see why she has any claim to you."

"There is another reason," Sebastian reminded him. "She has something very important to me."

"Take it! Then kill her," It seemed so obvious to him, "You really should learn to think outside the box."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. What I mean to say is you should consider alternatives."

"I could say the same to you," Sebastian purred suggestively. Arguing the point with the reaper was getting him nowhere. He needed the pendulum to swing in his favor and it was his move.

Sebastian gently set the bottles down on a small table by the staircase and closed the distance between he and Grell with practiced grace. Nose to nose he could clearly tell he caught the reaper off guard. The mask of happy confidence was lost, replaced with Grell's wide green eyes looking at him fearfully.

"You should consider your alternatives," Sebastian repeated back to him as he placed his hands firmly around Grell's slender arms, gripping just below the shoulder. "You could help me, you know."

"I-I really can't. I don't know what to do and on top of that I don't want to get in trouble again. It isn't that I don't want to help you out."

"What if there was something in it for you?" He growled quietly, pulling Grell closer to nuzzle his neck very lightly, touching him more with his breath than his body. He could feel the redhead shiver beneath his hands. Yes, Grell was definitely a creature of temptation.

"I… I …" Grell stuttered breathlessly, trying to remember why it was a bad idea to help Sebastian, "I… I thought I smelled bad. And…and I'm not a whore." Was all he could think to say, other than the answer Sebastian was looking for. There were some really good reasons he needed to deny the man, but every fiber in his body screamed for him to just acquiesce.

"You do smell bad, Grell," Sebastian smiled wickedly, placing a tease of a kiss against Grell's jaw, "We should draw you a bath."

The turn of events should have been welcomed. Wasn't this what Grell had wanted since meeting the demon butler? Wasn't this the culmination of all his flirtation? His heart fluttered helplessly and there was a growing vertigo taking over. Sebastian was as arousing as ever, but the warning bells going off were deafening.

A bath with Sebastian sounded exciting and the thoughts quick firing though his brain whispered all sorts of naughty things which could come of it. It also sounded dangerous, which should have given ample reason for him to deny his attraction. However it all processed as an intoxicating mix of arousal.

"And Grell," Sebastian whispered in his ear, tracing the thin shell with the tip of his nose, "You are a whore."

Grell pulled away, looking distressed, "I'm not, I'm not a whore."

Sebastian didn't miss a beat, pressing against Grell until he had him pinned firmly against the cellar wall, "You are for me. Don't you want to be my whore?"

He didn't expect Grell to answer, which was good because words were fleeing the reapers head much faster than he could have hoped to form them. Why wasn't he throwing himself into giving Sebastian what he wanted? Even as the terrifying demon forced him against the wall, playing out the fantasy that had run itself many times over in his mind, he was conflicted.

Sebastian knew just what to say, and just how to say it. He wouldn't outright lie, but there were so many ways to weave the truth into something it wasn't. Sebastian still saw Grell as distasteful as ever. He didn't really want him in that way, or any way for that matter. He did, however, want his debt paid so that he could continue his immortal life as it had been before that day in the storming sea. In time, perhaps he would be able to forget that whole chapter. There was only one thing he would emphatically hold to; the ocean was a very dangerous place for demons. Everything else he just wished to shut away.

Grell's large green eyes begged Sebastian to do something, anything, to make the agonizing pain of tough choices go away. If he said no, the demon he had lusted after for so long would disappear from his life again, most likely with permanence. He really didn't want there. Yet if he said yes, he would lose his job and possibly his life if anyone found out.

Sebastian seemed to sense his train of thought, "You'll get away with it." He said confidently, "The ministry didn't even catch on to your first bloodbath until you and I had our dance."

He used the word 'dance' deliberately. It was his well placed trap for the reaper. He turned their meeting into something other than it was by doing so. There had been no 'fight', he had not beat Grell within an inch of his life and almost made good on ending it with the man's own scythe. No, they had danced. He knew in Grell's romantic misfires of the mind, which was all he remembered anyhow. This just sealed the memory the way Sebastian wanted.

"I know you Grell. I know what you want." Sebastian whispered, brushing his thumb across Grell's pouty bottom lip, "If you give me the one word I want, then I'll give it to you."

That was it. Sebastian's dangerously romantic offer was enough to flick the switch Grell had been trying to hard to avoid. He had been doing so well up till then, if not in thought then at least in action. He had put up a fight, hadn't he? He just couldn't resist any longer. It wasn't in him to deny his lustful nature. For the life of him he couldn't remember why he had been trying to begin with. All his mind could do was think of his reward. All he had to do was say that one little word, "Yes."

Sebastian let the familiar feline smile curl his lips. There we go, he thought to himself. He knew Grell Sutcliff way too well. It wasn't like the reaper had ever been shy about his feelings. Perhaps, had he realized just how dangerous Sebastian could be, he would have taken care with what he revealed. Luckily for him, Grell was one to leap first and look back only to see the carnage left in his wake. Clandestine was not a word in his proverbial vocabulary.

The demon made good on his offer with deliberate slowness. He traced one hand up Grell's neck tenderly, cupping it against his jaw as he touched a finger against the redhead's delicate ear.

Grell felt the spark of excitement in his core, shivering down to settle happily in his groin. Yes, yes, yes, yes, was all his mind could play over and over. It had been just that easy. That single word was all it took.

Grell reached a slender arm up to touch Sebastian and was slightly disappointed when he felt the demon's hand catch his wrist. The demon wasn't going to give any more than he needed to. He wanted the reaper to stay hungry for him.

Sebastian leaned in close, brushing his lips against the other man's slowly before pressing fully against them. He closed his eyes, bringing his other hand up to tangle itself in Grell's scarlet hair.

He took great care to be gentle. Grell's appetite begged for him to be rough, but Sebastian knew better. Anyone who got so excited over the possibility of a kiss, every time they met, did not have the experience they claimed. Grell was not eager because of all his sexual exploits, but rather because of a long and consistent history of rejection. Sebastian could almost feel sorry for him, almost.

He felt Grell stiffen as his tongue slipped across his lips, sweetly teasing for entrance. When he did not comply, Sebastian took the opportunity to control the kiss more completely. He opened his mouth against Grell's sensuously, tilting his head downward ever so slightly to get the slender creature against the wall to open and let his tongue in.

With a muffled squeak he did, dizziness overcoming him as Sebastian's slick tongue reached for his own. The demon's tongue tasted of honey with the slightly bitter edge of black tea. He had never known the combination to be so delicious and he moved his tongue against the demon's to taste more.

Sebastian could feel Grell's sharp teeth graze against his lip and made the mental note to beware of their positioning. The redhead's mouth could be quite lethal if he did not take care. He didn't want his tongue bitten off or lip sliced open. It would wreck the lovely momentum he had built over the last few moments, closing any arguments Grell may have had with the languid motions of his kiss.

Grell felt panic as Sebastian started to pull away. A small cry left his lips before the demon's mouth returned to his, gently capturing his upper lip before widening and stroking the lower with his tongue. It was so much better than Grell had anticipated. He thought he had a strong imagination, but with each deepening movement it was clear that his mind had painted a dull picture in comparison.

When the kiss ended, Grell sank against the wall lazily. His knees wanted to give out and he let them, sliding down until Sebastian took hold of his arms once more. His pupils were wide and dark, leaving only a thin ring of sparkling green to show their color. He was in a lovely daze and looked up at Sebastian dreamily. He could still feel Sebastian's tongue roaming his mouth and feel the heavy pressure of the kiss making his lips tingle deliciously. He reached one delicate hand to touch them, reveling in the sensitivity he found on the moist surface.

Sebastian looked much less affected. There was no flush on his cheeks or faraway look in his eyes. The only telling sign of the kiss was a gentle pink swelling in his lips. Still, Grell liked to think that he saw something affected in those garnet colored eyes. Affection or hunger he didn't care, so long as it was focused on him.

"You should have just said yes sooner," Sebastian said huskily, pulling Grell into a possessive hug against his chest. It was beautifully calculated, but he wanted to head off any lingering doubts the reaper had about aiding him.

"Oh Sebby," was all Grell could manage, nuzzling against the fine woolen coat at his cheek. He could feel those strong hands wrap around his head and shoulders, tangling sinfully in his long hair. He twined his slender arms low around Sebastian's waist, sinking farther down the wall. Sebastian followed him down to a crouching position.

"I need to pay an old friend a visit," the demon said calmly, "You need to come with me."

"Sure," Grell chirped sleepily, still reeling from the kiss. Part of his mind vainly tried to recall why he had objected so much before, but the majority of it was congratulating him on his amazing fortune. One little word and a whole new world of opportunity had opened before him like a storybook. All the fear and trepidation he had felt before was gone, replaced with a warm sense of excitement.

Grell wondered what else Sebastian would give him for being compliant. As if in response to the thought, Grell felt a hand dance along the throbbing heat trapped in his pants. It lingered there, cupping his erection gently, "You show me how useful you can be, and I will show you the same."

The fire that ignited behind Grell's immortal eyes was unmistakable. It smoldered hotly, turning those emerald depths to a glowing yellow. Sebastian had seen that glow thousands of times in the eyes of his brethren. It was the demon's hunger burning for him. The death god was no longer thinking about the consequences which could befall him. Like an addict, he just wanted his next hit. Sebastian just had to tell him what needed to be done for him to get it


	8. Chapter 8: A Bad Idea

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to thank everyone who has been kind enough to review and critique this little fic. I really really appreciate the feedback and would not have been able do it without you. It has literally been years since I have written anything and with this being my "surprise, I'm not dead after all" muse revival, you guys have put up with all my rustiness. Thank you so much.

I wasn't expecting this piece to run quite so long, but as you can see Sebastian is taking his sweet time in getting things done. It's not my fault, it's his fault. Who knew a demon as meticulous and well timed as he could take so long!

Once again thank you all for the reviews. I really appreciate them more than you know. You all feed my muse so well.

AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: To be honest, I am not happy with the quality of this chapter. It feels like a lot of telling and no showing, very wooden and stiff. I have edited and reedited, but I just can't seem to get it right. If anyone would like to do a little beta work and help me with this and future chapters, I would be eternally grateful. Just send me a PM if you are interested- and have the time.

Commodities: Chapter 8

When Sebastian had mentioned visiting a friend, Grell hadn't realized that meant a cross country trek into Southern Romania. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but long distance travel hadn't made the list. He excused his own lack of foresight, using the mind twisting kiss Sebastian had given him as the reason behind it. Who could possibly think about anything rational when they were pinned against the wall by the sexiest demon imaginable? Never mind that the demon was giving him a very intimate and lustful kiss. Grell smiled quietly in the dark at the memory of that, bringing two fingers up to trace along his lips. It was like he could still feel the pressure of Sebastian's mouth against his. He wondered when he would be able to experience it again. Maybe when it happened, the demon would give him more than just a kiss.

Even if Grell somehow had known about the trip, he still wouldn't' have guessed that Sebastian's 'friend' lived at the pinnacle of the narrowest mountain trail he had ever had the displeasure of walking up. In some places the trail had been so tight against the cliffs that he had been forced to place one foot directly in front of the other just to keep both on solid ground. The drop was considerable and he wasn't interested in finding out how his immortal body would heal once it struck the rocky bottom. Sebastian did not seem to have any issues though, walking with a surefooted cadence that could only be rivaled by a mountain goat. Grell doubted a goat would look so graceful while working its way through the difficult terrain. No, such sleek movements were exclusive to Sebastian.

They had been almost half way up the mountain when the sun had set and it occurred to Grell that they could have used the death ministry as a shortcut. The trip had taken almost three whole days of sprinting over the landscape like ibex on the Serengeti. Not that Grell hadn't enjoyed it, but it was time consuming and would certainly add to his chances of being caught awol. He hoped William would assume he was sulking over the Ripper case still, holed up in his room at the ministry. It was a hope he knew was likely; William was not a particularly imaginative boss. As for the souls he wasn't collecting, well, the paperwork wouldn't hit Will's desk for at least two weeks. By that time Grell knew he could either catch up or cover up the backlog. The only catch, had they decided to use the ministry as a short cut, was that they would have had to avoid running into anyone from his sector. It was slightly more dangerous than his current decision to up and leave his post, but only slightly. He decided to congratulate himself on not using the shortcut. It was a wise, if initially unrealized decision. His body however, did not feel so happy about his choice.

As they neared their destination, Grell stared up at the castle in awe, marveling at the sheer scale of the structure. Its onyx black walls gleamed as the heavy gold light of the moon struck at sharp angles from its low vantage on the horizon. It shimmered against flecks of mica under the polished stone surface, shifting as the reaper and demon walked closer. It was styled like no dwelling Grell had encountered before, a mix of blocky western European fortification and what could only be described as the gnarling of ancient tree-work that left him feeling intimidated. He knew there were demon dens scattered across the known world and beyond, each a refuge for the damned. The difference here was this one was obviously not somewhere to hide; it was a stronghold and a challenge to any who dared fight the dark. Quick observation of the pristine walls and neatly kept exterior grounds showed the reaper that it was a challenge unanswered.

The front door was extremely tall and arched. It was an impressive footnote that reminded those coming to call of the owner's power and wealth. Hewn from the heavy and rare ironwood, it was dark and imposing like the rest of the castle. Intricately carved wolves swirled on its surface, each hair painstakingly etched into the wood and edged with silver, copper, and gold leaf. The wolves' eyes were polished tigerstone and seemed to move with the approaching guests, watching them. It seemed a little foolish to Grell, leaving precious stones and metal out in the open. But there was a growing realization that if anyone was foolish enough to steal from this man, they would not have anywhere to run he could not reach.

Sebastian stopped a few feet away from the massive entrance, touching Grell's arm with a gloved hand to make sure the reaper went no further. For a moment, nothing happened. The moonlight cast sickly shadows about, gold and green in the night. The misty scent of impending rain trailed about them, mixing with the earthy smells coming from the carven portal.

Grell traced the swirling wolf patterns on the door with his eyes as they waited. He had to admit, the creatures looked very real. When one of the beasts began to move within the wood grain, Grell took a halting step back, making the wine bottles in his satchel clink conspicuously. Yes, definitely too real.

Fur undulated under the very tight musculature of the door wolf as it unfurled itself from the design, climbing out of the woodwork on very large clawed feet. The metallic edging spread like mercury over the fur, bathing the beast in a shining cloak of gold. The moon cast deep shadows on the beast, making it seem even more massive than it actually was. Grell shrank within himself at the sight, reaching for Sebastian's arm reflexively.

The demon batted Grell's hands away without taking his eyes off the door wolf, "Be still, Sutcliff."

The lump that rose in Grell's throat almost brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to know he was safe and that Sebastian would protect him. He wasn't getting that impression at all and felt more like a pet dog than the dark butler's friend. The memory of the kiss they shared before felt cheapened. He remained silent, but looked at the demon with hurt green eyes.

Sebastian felt the redhead's gaze upon him and sighed inwardly. There were times he felt the man was more human than god. His emotions were so annoying. Why couldn't he be cold ad neutral as he was supposed to be, like William was? He knew the answer though, and in a sad little way was thankful for it. He couldn't be like William because if he was, Sebastian would be shit out of luck for help. Sebastian knew he wasn't in the clear yet. He had to keep the reaper happy long enough to get himself out of the mess he was in. He reached out and touched the edge of Grell's hand, the smallest gesture of reassurance, "Please, Grell. This is not a good place to cling."

Grell still looked disappointed, but straightened his posture. With a deep breath he turned back to the rumbling animal. Unfortunately, or rather to his surprise, the wolf was no longer there. In its place stood a young man dressed in a black suit with silver trim.

The man looked back at the reaper with the indifference. He was about Grell's height, with angular features which spoke of a naturally slim build, thickened with considerable exercise. His eyes were the color of dark honey, empty despite their warm hue. The blonde of his hair shone silver, coming down in fine straight locks to rest just above his chin. He was very striking, but his obvious detachment made him unappealing to the Grell. He seemed much more robotic than Sebastian.

"State your business," the man said, looking from Grell to Sebastian.

"I would like to request an audience with Master Skoll," Sebastian said, bowing slightly, "I do not have an appointment."

"Then your request is denied," the blonde said, his voice completely devoid of emotion, "Please leave the castle grounds."

Sebastian seemed undeterred, "I come bearing gifts for the Master. And I assure you that I will not waste his time. We have things of importance to discuss."

The wolf guard narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, reading his intentions with cold calculation. Skoll did not like visitors, especially not ones who weren't specifically invited, "Wait here," he commanded.

A white flash that crossed the guard's gaze as he sprouted golden leathery wings and bounded directly upward, disappearing over the massive turrets.

Grell watched him pass over the wall and snapped around to gape at Sebastian, "What are we doing here? You said this was a friend of yours. Why did you bring me to this place? This is dangerous and I don't mean that in a sexy way. This is bad dangerous. I don't belong here."

Sebastian glanced at Grell without moving his head, "If you think we're alone, you're wrong. I suggest you consider silence as your most prudent option."

Grell ground his teeth together venomously. In a lower voice he seethed, "This is not what I was expecting when you said we were going to see a friend of yours. This is a bad place for BOTH of us."

Sebastian smirked, "Not so much for me. But you are correct; this place is dangerous for someone like you."

By that he meant for a reaper. A den of demons was no place for a death god to wander. As much as Grell lusted after Sebastian, there was an odd comfort that the other didn't pursue him hungrily in return. Grell was not his prey and wouldn't be for any single demon- but a whole nest of them was a very different story.

"I can't help you if I'm dead," Grell reminded him.

"You can't help me if you don't know what you're doing, either. Now hush, you're making a scene."

Grell was not making a scene. As far as he was concerned he was being quite rational. It wasn't even just that there were a lot of demons around, but that Sebastian wasn't nearly as chummy with them as he had previously let on. Grell didn't even know who he was making a scene in front of! They seemed completely alone to him.

It wasn't long before the guard returned with a second demon in tow. They leaped over the wall gracefully, landing before the visitors like a pair of hyena before a wounded gazelle.

The second demon was female by appearance. Her short black hair was twisted up into a spiky pony tail tied with white ribbon. She wore a shredded straight jacket tied with matching ribbons. She gave Sebastian a hard look as she straightened from her landing, smiling darkly, "I thought it might be you," she said, tart happiness in her voice, "The picky eater."

Sebastian frowned slightly at the title. It wasn't that he was particularly picky with his food, he just liked it seasoned properly. Seasoning took time, "Hello Stella."

The demoness was already looking at Grell with hungry eyes, "My my, I knew you had exotic tastes but you have outdone yourself."

Sebastian ignored her. Grell, as far as he was concerned, was completely inedible. However, he supposed to someone who hadn't experienced his flirtatious vulgarity, the reaper could look appetizing. His delicate features, long red hair and stunning green eyes certainly painted the picture of predatory indulgence to those interested. Still, that had nothing to do with his visit, "I am here to see Skoll."

Stella circled Grell confidently, kicking one knee boot clad foot in front of the other. "Why?" she asked thoughtfully, reaching out to touch a lock of Grell's hair.

The reaper immediately stepped back, positioning himself behind Sebastian, "I don't like this."

"Oh, your dinner is shy," she giggled, "I didn't know reapers 'did' shy."

"He's rather unique," Sebastian replied with mock cheer, "And he isn't on the menu."

"A pity," she said, stepping back beside the guard, "It isn't often that something unusual comes up this way."

"Yes, well I am sure are still very well fed."

"I am," she admitted. "But there is always room for dessert."

"Not always," Sebastian replied, "But I really do need to see your Master."

"You didn't tell me why."

Sebastian thought a moment. He didn't want to give her reason to think that he was not only a picky eater, but that he was proverbially throwing his meals back up. However if he didn't have a good reason, she wouldn't let him in. Secondarily, if he didn't make it inside, there was a fair chance that Stella would try her hand at reaper hunting on their way back down the mountain. It was easy for her to be so bold in her element, where she could call any number of demons to her aid if Grell turned out to be more than she could handle on her own.

"I brought him some very fine wine," he began, "And I need to give him the details about my latest contract."

It was technically true, but Stella could tell it wasn't the whole story.

"There was an angel in London about a week ago, you see." He continued, solidifying his story, "And it caused quite a problem for me and my dinner. So I killed it." He placed a hand against his forehead as if he was getting a headache, "I fear that my thoughtless killing could cause problems for other demons here on Earth."

Now that, while also technically true, wasn't a big concern to him. If anything, the angels wrote Ash off as a creep who just couldn't leave human affairs alone and got what was coming to him. However, Stella didn't know that, "Thoughtless killing is what we do," she said sweetly, "It's our nature. Killing an angel, though? That was really stupid."

"I know." He said solemnly, "Which is why I need to personally talk to Skoll about it, among other things."

"It will be your funeral," she lilted, gesturing for the gates to be opened. She turned and smiled at him wickedly, "And when it is, I will take good care of your little pet there."

"I am not his pet!" Grell said furiously. He just couldn't keep quiet when that woman was looking at him like that.

"Yes you are, now come on." Sebastian grabbed the reaper's wrist and gave a very firm tug. Under his breath he added, "As long as we are here, you belong to me. You already know being a death god isn't going to keep you safe. At least a claim on you might."

"Might? What do you mean might?" Grell squealed, straining to look back over his shoulder as he tripped after Sebastian. "I'm a death god. They should be nervous around me!"

"First, you showed up with a demon. That doesn't make you look very high and mighty. Besides that, you are greatly, and I do mean greatly outnumbered."

"Why did you bring me here?!" He whined pitifully.

"To learn," he said in a low tone, letting go of Grell's wrist. The reaper took a few hurried steps to catch stride with Sebastian. He glanced nervously at his companion just in time to see the other look away. The equally nervous frown on Sebastian's face was enough to make Grell seriously consider turning right around and making a B-line back to England. The only reason he didn't actually do it was the demoness at his back, burning a hole into his skull with her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9: Miscalculations

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for the continued support and reviews! I found an amazing beta-reader to keep me on track and hope you will enjoy the remaining chapters.

Commodities: Chapter 9

Skoll regarded the pair critically from his position on the enormous pillow covered bed. In the flickering light cast by candles ensconced around the room he watched them, wine colored eyes sliding from Sebastian to Grell and back again in short order, measuring their smallest movements and nearly indiscernible changes in expression. He did not like company and he was particularly unforgiving when it came to uninvited guests. He narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, dropping his ashen blond brows, "You have not visited us in a very long time, Shadow."

Sebastian nodded, lowering his eyes obediently. It was true that he had not seen Skoll in almost half a century, and it had been longer yet since anyone had called him by that name, "You look very well, Lord Skoll." He offered.

Somewhere in the shadowed recesses of the room a woman giggled. To see the demon who had deemed himself too cultured to run with the pack, returned to the den and looking so submissive was quite comical in the opinion of those watching from the sidelines. If only to those that knew Sebastian before he was Sebastian.

Skoll propped himself up higher on his pillows, crossing his legs lazily as he allowed a sly half-smile to curl his lips. His gaze followed the sound back to where Stella sat perched on a chair, balancing with her knees tucked to her chest and the balls of her feet pressed against the cushion. Her grin matched his smile in its secret satisfaction, though hers was much more obvious, even as she pressed her naked teeth against the top of her knees to hide it.

While Sebastian pretended to not see the small exchange, keeping his gaze neutral and forward, he could feel Grell at his back, far less composed. Without looking he could sense the heat of Grell's glare as the reaper tried to strangle Stella with his mind. It was completely useless, of course, but the low growl that accompanied it was surprisingly menacing. At that Sebastian did look back over his shoulder at the other man, not surprised to see the redhead with his teeth bared in a snarl that could only be described as feral.

"Grell," he said calmly, putting forth his most 'in control' facade, "Do not antagonize Stella."

At this, the demoness burst into outright laughter, vainly trying to cover her outburst with a long, sleeve covered hand. The buckles on her straight jacked tinkled as she attempted to swallow her delight. It was just too funny. Her body shivered with dark mirth, but more than that, with a curious hunger. The green-eyed reaper Shadow brought with him was so tantalizing, and his nervous energy just made him more so. She had never seen one so skittish, so edible. One way or another, she thought as she tried to calm herself, she would see what it was like to prey upon a greater predator than herself. The human cattle that usually satisfied her with would not touch her lips again until she had tried this more unusual fare.

Skoll caught Sebastian's eye and let his calculating look fall back into place. For the dark haired demon to return meant he wanted something, and for Skoll that meant there was something he would receive for giving him what he needed. Keeping the former butler in his gaze he snapped his fingers sharply, mood turned serious, "All of you, leave us. I wish to talk to Shadow and his," he paused, regarding Grell with a mix of distaste and curiosity, "companion, alone."

"Thank you," Sebastian said, bringing one hand to his chest and bowing. It had become so habitual to him that it seemed completely natural.

Skoll shook his head ever so slightly, "Do not thank me, Shadow. We have not even talked yet. Part of me knows I will give you whatever you are asking for, but all of me knows that you will not like the price. You have always been so… difficult, like that."

"As you say," Sebastian corrected himself, "We have not talked."

Stella sauntered past Grell as she excused herself, following the small entourage of demons who had been ordered to leave. They had been silent, except for her. Grell hadn't seen any of the others and it added to his worry. What else was he not seeing?

The demoness studied him intently as she glided past, brazenly fingering a thick lock of Grell's hair. Her dark pink eyes glimmered, daring him to bat her away, daring him to hide behind Sebastian again. But the look held him paralyzed, hypnotized like a mouse faced with a snake. She brought his hair to her face, running the strands along her lips and breathing in the scent. He smelled of freshly turned earth and the cool damp of rain turned warm by the sun. More than that, she could smell his fear, and it made her hungry.

Without a word she let the scarlet strands slip over her finger tips and fall. Grell felt a chilling vertigo as she let go, watching him to the last moment as she closed the door behind her. He wasn't sure if he was going to pass out or throw up, or if he would just die of cardiac arrest right there. That woman, that demon, was truly frightening. It was like she could peel the skin from his bones just by looking at him; make him scream without making a single move. Her power manifested so differently from Sebastian's, like the blackest ink, staining his soul with absolute devastation.

The clink of wine bottles sounded distant and surreal. A conversation in low tones could be heard, but Grell couldn't make out what they were saying. One voice was Sebastian, ever calm and composed, explaining his situation. The other's voice was even deeper, responding in kind to the request. Skoll was the other man's name, Grell reminded himself with disjointed clarity. Next would be some sort of arrangement and…

The world snapped into crystal clarity for Grell as Sebastian said, "I doubt I could force this reaper to help me if I do what you are proposing."

From the bed, Skoll shrugged noncommittally, "If his options are to help you finish this or die tonight, which do you think he will choose?"

Grell felt his heartbeat begin its climb to panic. He had missed something important and every self preserving instinct was telling him to get away, fast. The door at his back was closed; likely there were demons just on the other side. The room had no windows, so he was trapped either way. He forced himself to keep still and think rationally, or positively, anything but the broken repeat of, "I am totally fucked. I am going to die."

Sebastian will keep me safe, he began to chant silently to himself, Sebastian will keep me safe. He needs me, he likes me, we are friends and he will protect me. These are his friends, they will not be able to hurt me, I am safe. Sebastian will keep me safe, he needs me, he likes me, we are friends. I am safe.

The sad part of his mantra was that the more he told himself that was the case, the less he believed it. Sebastian said he would keep him safe, but the sobering realization was that he would only do it if it benefited him, just as he had only kissed him because there was something for him to gain from it. Sebastian was, no matter what Grell fantasized him into being, a demon.

"Sebastian," Grell croaked, scared to breath, "What is he talking about?"

"Skoll, I brought you some very nice wine. Surely it is enough for something so simple." Sebastian said with forced ease. He had not wanted to use force with Grell. It was unnecessary and dicey. The redhead was unstable as it was, to push the issue by threatening him after… It would make the situation just that much worse.

"Sebby?" Grell whispered, his voice so tiny he could barely hear himself. Fearful tears began to well as Sebastian refused to acknowledge him, "Please can we leave. I'll do whatever I have to do to fix Ciel's soul, I promise, I swear to you, but this place frightens me."

Skoll watched as Grell's fragile composure crumbled. It was so interesting to watch an immortal god, more powerful than any demon, dissolve into something so akin to human. He could see the delicate tears shimmering, unshed against his lower lashes. The trembling of his lips, the choke in his voice, it was so familiar to his palette. How many humans had acted exactly the same way, just before he had feasted upon their weakness, upon their souls? He guessed a reaper must taste much fuller, with so much more time to live and mature, "No Shadow," he said, "I think this is what I want in trade."

"He is my companion," Sebastian tried. It was true in a loose sense, though not in the sense he was trying to lead Skoll into believing, "It would be most unsavory if-"

Skoll rolled his eyes, chuckling, "Oh Shadow, Shadow, do not mince words with me. I know what he is and I know what he is not. You are far too kind to the ones you destroy. That is why Stella laughs at you and why the other demons do not accept you as their brother. You separate yourself from us in a most hurtful way."

"Lord Skoll," Sebastian said, "This man is helping me of his own choosing, I wish for it to remain so."

"We all have wishes, Shadow." Skoll said, smirking, "But you of all people know that wishes are the first step to downfall."

Sebastian's expression darkened as he opened his mouth to respond. He hadn't come to fight, but his mind was settling the contrary facts one after another. There was a good chance he would have to battle his way back to the gate and watch his back for a good measure after.

"If I see a mark of contract anywhere on his body after I rip his clothes off, I promise to go no further," Skoll said with playful seriousness, knowing full well that no mark would be found on the reaper, "I also assure you that this death god will perform the tasks required for you to clear yourself of this meddlesome witch business. But Shadow," he said, emphasizing the other man's name, "I will take what I want in trade for what I know."

There was a long, tense silence between them. Skoll was very intelligent, more so than Sebastian had ever given him credit for. Time had smoothed the sharp edges of memory and as he stood before the Wolf Lord, he remembered why he had left so long ago. Sebastian loved competition, so long as it was in an arena he could win in. This was not one of those arenas and never had been. He had hoped Skoll would view him differently with the wide span of absence between them. That they could be closer to equals rather than leader and led. What a miscalculation he had made.

Sebastian had a quickly narrowing selection of options open to him. He could try to leave, pretending to save face as he calculated how far he could get on feigned ignorance. If he held an expectation of not being attacked, perhaps the demons would agree he should be allowed to pass. With Grell at his side, that was particularly unlikely. This led him to his second and more likely option of fighting his way out. He could probably get out alone, but that still left Grell and even though the redhead could fight, he was barely able to handle one demon. A whole pack of them would kill him. Therefore that was not an option. His final option was to acquiesce. It was distasteful but in the end he would get what he needed. The trade off was that Grell would hate him. What did that matter though, really? Wasn't it all an act to get Grell to bend to his will? Sebastian hated when things were beyond his control and it seemed more and more in his life sans-contract, things just kept piling up.

"You are right, Skoll," Sebastian said, making sure to leave off the demon's title. He was sure respect had been lost on both sides, but that didn't matter either. After this whole thing was over, Sebastian promised himself that he would disappear into the fabric of human society once more, leaving this horrible nightmare where he was less than exceptional, far behind. "Just promise me that when you are finished, the reaper will be able to do what needs to be done."

"He will have all the knowledge," Skoll grinned widely, "And all the incentive he needs to return both soul and life to its original owner."

Grell pressed himself against the door, trying to disappear into the carved wood grain. He didn't have all the details, but it was clear that whatever had just transpired put him in a very bad position. he had become a bartering chip. Skoll looked at him casually, shifting forward on bed so one leg was tucked beneath him while the other was cradled in his arms, allowing him to rest his head on his knee. His expression was one of laziness, it said, 'you may want to run, but there is nowhere to go.'

Grell pawed blindly for the doorknob as Sebastian spun around to face him. The demon grabbed his hand, bringing it up to his chest while he reached more gently for its partner. He held both carefully with his thumbs on Grell's gloved palms while his fingers curled around the outer edges. He forced himself to look concerned, to look regretful, if for no other reason than to buffer the impending hate Grell would feel towards him later. Grell looked back at him, still holding out the small hope that Sebastian would heroically, romantically, magically carry him away into the night, fighting any who came after them. But as those russet eyes stared into his, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Sebastian leaned forward, tilting his head slightly as he went in for a kiss. He figured it was the least he could do, given what was to follow. As before it wasn't a true kiss of romance, it was the next line in his act so to speak. It was a preemptive measure against the fallout.

Grell snapped his head to the side sharply, shutting his eyes against the world. He pulled his hands away as well, clasping one in the other protectively. He had been so foolish to give in to Sebastian and naive to think that the demon had anything but his own selfish needs to be concerned with. And now? Now Grell realized that as Sebastian's needs changed, his own usefulness changed as well. He didn't know who he was angrier at, Sebastian or his own impulsive heart.

"I'm sorry, Grell." Sebastian murmured, opening the door just enough to let himself slip out, "This was not how I expected things to work out."


	10. Chapter 10: Desertion

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is long, just saying that right off the bat. It's about 3 AM here and I just got done re-reading it for about the 10th time. I hope I've caught most of my mistakes and given you something to enjoy that is worth the read. I know it's been a couple weeks since my last update. Some chapter come fast and some come slowly… and considering coming…

WARNING WARNING WARNING: This chapter contains mature sexual content. This chapter is the first chapter which gives the REASON behind the 'M' rating. If you cannot handle it, please please don't read it. You can safely go onto the next chapter and not lose a whole lot of plot… some, but nothing that won't be reestablished later in the story. Specifically with this chapter's mature content, there is guy on guy action, there is violence, and there is rape. Seriously, if you can't stomach it, please don't read it.

Commodities: Chapter 10

Sebastian held his hand around the doorknob for several minutes, hoping that Grell had enough sense to submit to whatever Skoll wanted. Each moment seemed like an eternity ticking away the silence. He knew that if the shinigami opened the door, he would have to drag him back. Helping him escape was out of the question.

Sending the innocent reaper to a torturous slaughter was something he knew all too much about, but it was a necessary evil. In Grell's case, however, he wouldn't actually be killed by it. Though his crime was no longer victimless, the means were nothing more than a footnote to the end. He wanted to feel guilty but just couldn't make his heart bleed for Grell. As the only one who agreed to help him he knew the risks, didn't he?

Leaning back against the door gingerly he tried to quell the squall of uncertainty with himself. The reality was that Grell had no idea that something like this could happen, Sebastian wasn't sure that he had realized it either. Not before it was way too late to turn back. It wasn't Grell's well being that brought on the uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, but the much sharper pang of losing face. Skoll had taken the reaper so easily, and in many ways had done so publicly. What was he supposed to do?

He kept his arm tense a few moments longer, but when there was no turn, no pull, no sound beyond, he relaxed his grip. In quiet contemplation he listened, straining to hear any sound beyond that would give him a clue to what was happening within. The one thing he could not allow was Grell's death, and he didn't trust Skoll to play nicely. Despite that, he reminded himself that there wasn't anything he could do. As the less refined man would say, he really fucked up.

Faintly through the heavy wooden door, he heard the soft murmur of voices. The confident growling tenor of Skoll taking turns with the much lighter trill of Grell. It was like listening to birds at dawn, with eyes closed against the encroaching light there was sound, but no meaning. This was the same. Their conversation went back and forth like a staccato song, but the lyrics were faded from his page. Still, the idea of a dialogue between them eased Sebastian's mind somewhat.

With a loud thump, the door shook at his back. That was more like what he expected. Grell's muffled yell followed by the sound of fabric dragging downward across the wood marked the beginning of Skoll's attack. Dry scuffling and successive bumps against the door followed. Sebastian closed his eyes against the dull twinge of pleasure shivered through his body, bringing a prickly numbness to the tips of his fingers. The idea of Grell fraught against Skoll, the knowledge that he could have been the one to take such advantage, knowing that Grell would have received him much differently, made him envious despite his aversions.

He pushed his bangs back with a nervous hand, embarrassed that his mind wandered there so easily. Still, his mind continued to whisper that there was nothing to stop him from having his turn when it was over. He fought back the ugly little smile turning up the corners of his lips. He was a lot more like his brethren than he liked to think; A real bastard at heart.

He held his breath, listening for what would come next. He didn't know if he listened to make sure Grell was alive, or if his twisted arousal at the first indication of a struggle kept him there. After a moment, all he heard was the rhythm of his heart, fast and loud in his ears. He was almost disappointed. He let his breath out slowly, trying to turn his attention to something else. It would look bad if he went back into Skoll's room. He had lost enough face for one night. To turn around and participate now was unthinkable. It was just plain desperate. Never mind that he would most likely be asked to leave anyhow.

A thin wave of nausea swept through him, hot on the heels of his pleasure. Had Skoll just cut to the end and killed the reaper? It would be the ultimate insult to Sebastian and make a very clear statement about what the demon did with uninvited company… as well as to those who left his pack and then tried to return to ask for favors. What he was ever thinking by coming here was a mistake. But it was beyond too late. He decided it would be best if he left, rather than guess at what was happening just beyond the door. Either Grell was dead, or he wasn't. He would wait till morning to find out.

As he made his way down the dark hall, he heard Stella at his back, "Did you lose something, Shadow?"

Her cackle followed him down the corridor like hooves against cobbled streets, hollow and grim. He was much stronger than she, but he could do nothing but keep walking. One measured step in front of the other, each one putting just a little more distance between him and his latest mistake.

The answer to Stella's question was yes, of course. Though he doubted she would understand much about it. She was a perfect fit for this place, for the lifestyle. She could be brash and fierce and wild within the confines of Skoll's kingdom. She could fill herself endlessly with the souls Skoll provided and be rewarded for her gluttony with his attention. The Death Ministry would have put a swift end to her if she tried to hunt in London, but in the mountains she called home, Skoll was king. The Ministry, perhaps wisely, chose to forget about the high hamlets where souls were simply snuffed out.

When he returned he would collect Grell, who he hoped would be alive at that point, and leave this literally god-forsaken place behind him once more. It was just another chapter he wanted to forget, wash away with the blood of the future. He would welcome a new contract and a new start; one where the only debts on the books were those owed to him. He would never, ever let this sort of vulnerability come to light again. He would wear the mask he so diligently showed Ciel day after day, for eternity.

Picking up his pace, Sebastian turned the corner at the far end of the hall. The air felt leaden as he breathed, suffocating him with anger. Rather than empower him, the way anger often did with human beings, it made him feel even less himself. He felt weak and out of control. It was not a sensation he was fond of. He fought it back, pivoting on heel to face the closest window. Stepping back till his fingertips touched the far wall he got a short running start, leaping through the arched stone casement, into the night. As he fell toward the courtyard below, wind rushing icily past his face, he wanted the anger to fall away, left behind. The stony ground beneath his shoes replied a gravely no, he could not leave his feelings at the door. He could not outrun himself.

* * *

Grell lay motionless on the bed, staring fixedly at the thick canopy of drapes above. The smell of blood, his own blood, locked him with the agonizing fear of impending death. He could feel it drying on his face, in his hair, on his shirt. The splashing color he loved so much, turned against him in a sick twist of fate. How could Sebastian do this to him? How could he just leave him behind after promising him- but he hadn't actually promised him anything, had he? He had said if Grell was 'useful', then he would get what he wanted. Not that it had been discussed thoroughly. He had been so stupid.

He flexed the finger on his right hand experimentally, feeling the uncomfortable tackiness of his cooling blood soaking the glove completely. Pain laced down his arm in a powerful shudder, running through his shoulder before settling in tempo with his anxious heartbeat. The long, thin blade which had been driven into his palm minutes before pinned his arm above his head absolutely, sending a very clear message that Skoll did not want to play a game of chase with the reaper.

He quivered as each heartbeat brought a new trill of pain. It had happened so quickly and with such simple resolution that it had taken a moment for Grell to register what happened. Skoll had been using the knife on him, cutting thin trails through his shirt, across his chest and belly with mild interest. It wasn't until Grell tried to get up that Skoll grabbed his wrist and plunged it through his hand and into the mattress.

His other arm lay wisely beside its pinned brother, uninjured and wishing to remain so. He just hoped the demon lord didn't plan to repeat his violence without provocation. The stinging song of pain trailed over him as a very slight draft found its way into the room. The candles flickered lowly, nearly leaving the room in complete darkness before glowing back to life. Grell would do the same, ember himself to nothing and return to himself when it was over. At least, that is what he told himself to do. Regrettably, he was terrible at following directions, even his own.

He felt a hand on his ankle and flinched without thinking, adrenaline icing through his veins like quicksilver. The hand tightened in warning, pulling his leg back into position. It unlaced one shoe, unhurried and unconcerned, before repeating with the other. Grell heard them hit the floor at the foot of the bed and bit back a sob. He didn't understand how Sebastian could just let this happen to him. He had agreed to help him even though it jeopardized his job and most likely his life. He had come all the way to Romania on payment of a kiss with the promise of more to follow, only to find himself abandoned to the dark. No matter how many times he ran it through his mind, the truth was always the same.

"What are you thinking?" Skoll asked, walking round to sit on the edge of the bed. His accent was much thicker now that Sebastian was gone, heavy and robust like the unforgiving landscape in which he lived. In another time, another life, Grell would have found his voice alluring. But with the fresh pain of desertion cutting deeply through his heart, it sounded like rot.

Two tears rolled hotly down the sides of Grell's face as he tried to keep his gaze upward. He didn't want to look at the demon beside him. Another sob welled in his chest and wretched itself free; So much for silence. He closed his eyes, more tears finding their way free. He could feel them trickling down to his ears and falling into his hair, warm as they struck, cold an instant later. It wasn't just a few tears anymore, he was crying openly, wretched and afraid.

Skoll's fingers traced along the redhead's face, starting at the hairline and touching along his features ever so lightly. His middle finger caressed the peak of Grell's thin, straight nose while the other digits wandered silently over the arch of his brow and eyes, dragging through the wet trails on his cheeks before settling firmly on his delicate jaw. The demon lord pressured the reaper to tilt his head, so that when he opened his eyes he would have no choice but to look at him, "I asked what you were thinking. Won't you tell me?"

The demon lord's thumb pressed against Grell's lips, dragging back and forth over the pouty flesh possessively. He cocked his head slightly as he pulled Grell's lower lip down, revealing the tightly clenched teeth beneath. The dangerous points gleamed even in the low light and Skoll took the opportunity to run a finger from his opposite hand over them, "I have not seen teeth these on a reaper," he said, hunching forward to bring Grell's mouth against his own in a selfish kiss. "But then, I haven't had much opportunity to be this close, either."

The door opened with a soft click as Stella let herself in, eyeing Grell hungrily as she pushed it closed. She sauntered up behind Skoll, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders with comfortable familiarity, "Shadow is gone."

"Does that bother you, reaper?" Skoll asked knowingly, "To know your friend has traded your trust to meet his own needs?" He paused, tilting Grell's head from side to side slowly, "Is that what you're thinking about?"

"Are you going to share this one?", Stella asked innocently, "I've had my eye on him all night."

Skoll smiled as he turned to give her a peck on the cheek, "When I'm done, perhaps. You can't kill him though."

"If I can't kill him, may I watch?" she asked almost innocently, "I want to watch what you do."

"Why would you want to do that?" Skoll asked with a smirk.

"He's pretty," she said simply, "So much more interesting than a human."

"Sometimes I think you're turning out like Shadow," Skoll said coldly, "Bored with your food more and more."

Stella frowned, disentangling herself as she straightened. She was nothing like Shadow and resenting that Skoll would dare liken her to him. It wasn't like she was even going to be allowed the reaper's soul. Watching barely counted towards her hunger, a mere distraction.

With a terse, 'hmph' she grabbed the knife handle and jerked it free, satisfied when Grell arched against the bed, mouth wide in a silent scream. The jagged points of his teeth shone dangerously, but they were false weapons. Or rather, weapons he wouldn't think to use. He was too afraid of what would happen if he tried.

"I'll go tell the clan to not interrupt you," she said, licking the side of the blade with a light flick of her tongue before dropping it carelessly on the bed. "But I want to watch."

"Then hurry back. I'm feeling impatient."

Grell opened his eyes a little, watching Stella slip out of the room once more as she grinned from ear to ear. His eyes already stung from his own tears and with a couple short blinks he realized he was about to start crying again. He could see Skoll above him, hovering, as if he was a hawk ready to strike. His smile was reminiscent of his own toothy grin in its Cheshire glint, sharpened canines predatory.

Clothes fell away quickly, almost seeming to melt in the dark. Whatever did not slip off easily was torn and discarded. Grell could feel the small white buttons of his shirt pop off, pinging across the bed. The final one shot up from his collar, hitting just below his chin. He tried to calm himself, to not react, but it was so difficult. When Skoll unbuttoned his slacks and began dragging them downward, Grell sat up sharply, grabbing at his pants, "No! Stop it! Leave-"

The backhanded slap hit Grell with enough force to black his vision. It sent him reeling back towards the bed, driven even harder by the heavy hand which shot out to grab a fistful of his scarlet hair. Skoll threw Grell's head into the bed, making Grell gasp against the thick blankets, neck twisting at a hazardous angle. Each word that followed was punctuated by a forceful shove, "Do- Not- Test- My- Patience-"

"I'm sorry," Grell cried, voice muffled against the bed, "I didn't mean it, I just- I'm so sorry."

As much as the apology was meant to appease the demon hovering over his prone body, it was an apology to himself, "I'm sorry," he whined again. He had been so stupid. It was also an apology to Will, who he now realized was going to know, either by the delivery of his dead body or showing back to work with his crippled hand. Will, who would be humiliated at the Ministry because of him, again. Why hadn't he really considered what would happen?

Grell felt like he was playing Angelina's butler again, apologizing endlessly while vainly taking solace in his thoughts of suicide. It had been so contrary to his nature and had given him the most amazing high, pulling off the act so flawlessly. The difference now was that it wasn't an act. He was himself and the creeping idea of a way out was becoming more and more appealing. There was no thrill in it, only the ache of loneliness and betrayal.

As Skoll's grip on his hair loosened, the shinigami raised himself up on his undamaged arm. He looked at Skoll timidly, frightened by the ferocity that glowed like foxfire in his eyes. He brought his injured hand up to dab beneath his nose, using the back of his wrist gingerly. As he feared it came back slick with blood. Touching lower, he realized his lip was split at both the center and corner of his mouth. Grell looked at his mangled hand, watching the dark blood flow down his arm in a thick trail. Red, his favorite color, turned so easily against him, used to paint the pain across his flesh. For the first time in his life, the hue was not on his side. It was… horrible.

Grell watched in horror as Stella reentered the room, cruel grin still painted across her face. With a confident saunter she walked over to a plush armchair against the wall and reclined, flipping one leg over the other boldly. Was she actually going to watch this?

"Welcome back, Stella," Skoll purred, sliding Grell's pants off in two strong tugs.

"I see we're making progress," she replied, keeping her gaze on Grell's face. "I had hoped I didn't miss all the fun."

Skoll moved between Grell's slender legs, running his hands up the soft, pliant thighs on either side of him. He marveled at their smoothness, remarking inwardly that if he didn't have the absolute proof of Grell's gender in plain sight, he would swear the man was actually a woman. His hands traveled up farther, ignoring the reaper's soft member in favor of the tight grooves where legs met body. He lingered there, cupping his hands around the Grell's hips as he dug his thumbs into those grooves, testing the grip. Grell's heart beat frantically as the grip tightened, pulling upward just slightly in a mock thrust. He didn't want to think about where the activities would go from there, but his thoughts betrayed him at each protest.

Grell's body felt exquisitely warm wherever he touched and Skoll took his time in wandering. The demon trailed his fingers along the flat of Grell's belly, tracing along the dip of his navel before moving over the bony rise of his ribcage. If Shadow didn't need him so badly, Skoll knew there would be no stopping his hunger. As it was, the intense arousal burning through him was only partially sexual. The rest was raw hunger, eager to tear the death god to pieces and savor his death with the fine wine that was his soul. It was almost painful knowing that this one would leave alive.

Skoll smiled despite himself. There would be time to hunt this one after Shadow's debt had been paid to the witch. A life of immortality taught one nothing, except patience. Still, it was a shame.

Grell let his arm fold beneath him as Skoll moved up his body, pressing his naked body into the bed as he caught Grell's bloody lower lip with his teeth. His bite was gentle, but the pressure of his mouth built as Skoll coerced Grell's mouth to his own with his tongue.

Grell did not deny or help the kiss along, keeping his jaw relaxed to allow Skoll to do as he pleased. The demon's mouth moved with practiced ease over his own, giving him attention not unlike a lover, caressing his tongue and tracing the inner recesses of his mouth with much more delicacy than Grell had expected after their violent beginning.

Just as Grell's mouth tilted to return the kiss, tongue answering the call of the other inside his mouth, a resigned acquiescence to his fate, Skoll pulled back. A filament thin string of saliva hovered between them like spider thread before breaking under its own weight. The wet strand fell to Grell's chin, where Skoll brushed it away with his thumb, "Slut," he murmured, chuckling before he went in for another kiss.

The red heat of shame rose as Skoll feasted upon his injured lips, pushing his body down as he seated himself more securely between Grell's thighs, pressing his arousal against Grell's nakedness. He didn't know whether to kiss him back again or go back to playing the unmoved doll. It wasn't that he wanted any of this, he just figured that if he played along maybe… maybe…

Skoll turned Grell's head to the side roughly with his cheek, nuzzling him possessively before catching the man's earlobe with his teeth sharply. He held firm as the redhead winced beneath him, drawing one leg closer to his body as his hand reached towards the pain. It stopped short, wary of punishment.

"Are you still afraid?" he asked quietly, mouthing his way down Grell's neck before nipping Grell's winged collar bone, "Because you should be."

"Y-yes," Grell replied breathlessly. His wounds hurt, but Skoll's ministrations were feeling less and less frightening. Still, the fear was searing. The word tasted sour on his tongue though, the word which he had given Sebastian, that led him to this place, led to his betrayal. Tears welled once more, breaking free almost immediately to run freely across his face. He was back to square one, thinking about Sebastian, about how he used him and there was no preventing the inevitable. Now added was the weight of being called a slut; He wasn't a slut. He was already deeply ashamed for returning the kiss, even a little. He crossed his arms up over his chest and balled his hands into delicate fists. The cuts on his chest stung, and his hand was screaming in fiery pain. The only thing worse was the stabbing pain in his heart, pulsing over and over in perfect tempo with his despair. He drew his legs up, trying to bring them together uselessly.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Skoll growled, resituating himself against the redhead as he roughly pulled Grell's legs apart by his knees, "Enough self pity already. It's no longer interesting."

From behind tear laden lashes, Grell looked up at Skoll fearfully. He watched the demon spit into his hand, fairly certain he knew what Skoll was going to do next, "Please don't do this to me," Grell whined, trying again to close his legs against the assault from the man above him.

Skoll moved to his cock, running his hand over its erect length generously. As he coated himself with saliva, he stifled a heady moan, holding his breath before letting out in a rough sigh. Skoll's wolfish eyes shone bright in the dark as he jostled the redhead onto his belly, lifting his hips forcefully as he raised himself onto his knees.

Grell felt his muscles begin to quiver in cold anticipation of what was to come. The demon's hands wandered the small of his back, reaching to find purchase with his hips at this new impersonal angle before sliding back over his narrow, girlish behind. Grell closed his eyes tightly as he felt him touch two fingers to his entrance, stroking the delicate pink hole before pressing in.

Grell faltered against the bed, lurching away from the touch only to find himself tangled in his own hair. He couldn't raise his head enough to move, "Please," he pleaded earnestly, "I don't think I can do this."

Skoll smirked, leaning over Grell's back far enough to get his fingers into the redhead's mouth, "Sure you can, now suck them. And don't bite me."

Grell whimpered against the hand gripping his chin so harshly but did as he was told, coating the invading digits liberally with spit. He felt them withdraw, trailing back, rubbing ever so lightly before pushing in once more.

Grell squeaked, shifting his legs in an effort to escape the assault. He felt Skoll's hand on the small of his back, pulling him back into position, "Stop that," he said flatly.

Another finger joined the pair inside, moving in and out in a slow rhythm, preparing him for the demeaning act which was to come. It didn't hurt in the way his open wounds did, but with every movement, his sensitive nether regions protested the unique pain. It was a dull ache that spread from inside, spreading through his thighs, up his back.

Skoll moved deeper, reveling in the way Grell' body clenched around his fingers when he alternated between sliding them in, spreading them, and withdrawing. His gaze wandered up the reaper's back, enjoying the pale expanse of skin. The soft indentation of his spine leading up to the shadowed angles of his shoulder blades looked so inviting. He couldn't wait to press his body against that flawless span.

As Grell began to adjust to Skoll's ministrations, he tried again to relax. The fingers worked him rhythmically, sliding back and forth easily with the slick saliva as lubrication. He couldn't say that it felt good, but as it went along it felt less intense. He pulled his hair around, situating himself more comfortably on the bed. He couldn't believe himself, lying there quietly as the demon probed him. He knew he should fight back, or should have continued to fight back, but even his wild side knew it would only end badly. Skoll was more powerful than Sebastian and even if he managed to get away from him, there was a whole castle full of demons who would hunt him down. Thinking ahead wasn't ever at the forefront of his personality, but he didn't want to end up on the death list either.

As Grell gathered his hair, pulling the heavy locks from his back, Skoll paused, confused, "What is that on your shoulder?"

Grell reached back to cover the mark, silent shame evident in his body language. He could feel the raised scar beneath his fingers, a reminder of his crimes, still knotted and angry from where it had been burned into him months ago. It was emblazoned just above the blade of his left shoulder, his punishment. The perfect circle crossed with an X through the center, points radiating diagonally past the round diameter, was the mark of a rogue shinigami. It was the mark of a murderer, a warning to all that he was not wired right. It meant that he had been demoted. It meant he could not be promoted past the rank of captain, beneath the sector head. It meant a lot of things that didn't bother him. It was the scar itself that was unspeakably terrible. When he had caught sight of it in the mirror, when the bandages had been removed, he was horrified at the spidery lines which cut across his otherwise alabaster skin. Time was not kind; Hope as he might the scar was showing no signs of fading.

Skoll batted his hand away, running his fingers roughly over the marred skin, "You've been branded."

"It's nothing important," Grell said weakly, leaning until his knees slid out from under him, laying him on his side. If Skoll wanted his ass back in the air, the demon could hoist him back up. He felt both his willpower and obedience leaving him in equal measure. He hadn't thought about the scar since Sebastian had brought up his dark deeds and even then it had only been fleeting.

"You know," Skoll said seductively, "The longer I look at you, the more I want to consume your soul. These little quirks of yours tell me that you would be quite delectable."

"That's what I was thinking," Stella said in the darkness, earning her a grave look from her master. Skoll said she could watch, he didn't say she could talk, "I'm sorry Skoll, I remember my place."

Skoll pulled Grell's knees back up, splitting his legs easily as he resituated himself between them. He was done playing around and was already growing bored of the toy he wasn't allowed to kill. He crushed Grell's body to the bed with his own, enjoying the hot little body beneath his thoroughly as the heat from the reaper burned against him. He mouthed Grell's chin, moving up to capture his mouth in a ferocious kiss. He laved the split flesh of his lip, sucking fresh blood to the surface. He enjoyed the coppery taste as it spread through his mouth, enticing him to do more. Grell's teeth grazed against his tongue accidently, threatening to cut him, but in the warm wetness they slid past harmlessly.

He moved to Grell's neck, biting and sucking without mercy at the sweet flesh there. He could feel the other shivering beneath him, small quivers turning to noticeable shaking within a few short moments of his attack. He tasted the salt of the reaper's tears mixing with the dark blood which had dried in smears across his body. His hands traveled freely over the soft skin of Grell's chest, rippling over the deep marks he carved into him with his knife.

Skoll moved his hands to Grell's supple thighs, grabbing them as he pulled him roughly to his throbbing arousal. He was beyond ready, and with one more coat of saliva, he began rubbing against the inviting cleft of Grell's ass, pressing forward with the guidance of his hand. He could feel it right there to be had, that soft indentation where he could press farther, get inside him.

Blood pounded in Grell's ears like thunder as he lay beneath the demon, legs spread like a common whore. His heart ached from the strain of beating so incredibly hard, working to fight the deadly emotions welling within him. He didn't want this, didn't want any part of it, but he could feel it coming. He could feel Skoll's muscular body between his thighs, one hand pressed against his belly as the other moved the wet tip of Skoll's member up and down against him. He could feel the head pushing in, much larger and harder than the fingers that came before it. His breath began to come in shallow gasps, he couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything. He clenched his eyes shut, steeling himself against the pain.

Then something inside him snapped like an unyielding branch in the raging storm of his mind. He barely registered his own movement; tucking his knees against himself before kicking out, "Get away from me!"

Skoll leaned away from the kick, catching one leg by the ankle as the other connected squarely with his jaw. As Grell tried to scramble away, Skoll caught his other leg by the calf and dragged him back firmly. Grell continued to fight by shooting his palm against Skoll's chin and pulling one leg up again to push him back. Each move was countered and each ticked down just how close Grell would come to death before it was over.

The demon grabbed for the discarded knife angrily, and held it high above the struggling redhead. There was a flash of recognition in those green eyes as they saw the dull glint of the blade in Skoll's hand and the whole scene seemed to freeze in time. The blade came down as Grell tried to break free. If he could just unbalance his attacker, he could run for the door, just beyond the bed.

He felt Skoll's powerful hand on his shoulder, shoving him back violently and digging against the hollow beneath his clavicle while the other hand finished the knife's arc. The blade struck just above his breast, a couple inches beneath his collarbone. Pain soared to new heights as he could feel the steel cutting through him as easily. When it hitched, Skoll turned the blade harshly; breaking through whatever tentative resistance Grell's body had given it. It went all the way through, just as it had with his hand.

The anguished scream that wretched itself from Grell's throat was heard far beyond the castle grounds, resounding off the mountain peaks like a force of nature, echoing eerily long after. A second followed, and then a third left the night air electric with its passing.

From his perch, tucked against a cliff overlooking the stronghold, Sebastian simply closed his eyes against the onslaught of sound. It reverberated through his mind, demanding that he feel guilty, calling for help, for pity, for anything Sebastian would give. As the lone demon blocked it from his mind, dismissing it with ease that even he found surprising, it settled beyond, crashing itself against the landscape in desolate frustration. Before allowing himself to drift into a time passing sleep, Sebastian reminded himself just once more that Grell would be made to do what was needed, and even though the price was high for the reaper, it was just another paid service to Sebastian. Whether he could have handled it differently was unimportant now, what had transpired, was already the past.

Back in the castle room, Grell lay in agony as Skoll stabbed him one last time. A keening cry was all he could manage as the blade bit close to the original mark, driven completely through his narrow body to pin him once more. The smell of blood was all around him, drowning him in his own red essence. It was everywhere now, warm and wet and sickening. Fresh pools spilled over his shoulders and smudged gory handprints over his legs where Skoll grabbed, wrenching him around with bruising force.

He felt Skoll's cock against him, still erect and eager despite their struggle. The demon nudged the head against Grell's unyielding entrance, pushing forward with steady pressure before pitching his hips in a short thrust. The redhead's body stiffened as Skoll continued to press into him, pain flowing through his veins like ice.

Skoll drew back and gave a short series of thrusts, going deeper with each shift of his hips. The reaper was incredibly tight despite the blood and spit which covered his member, like a hot vice around him. He knew part of it was that Grell wouldn't settle down and let him have his way, "You really should try to relax," Skoll purred, grinding until he could go no farther, completely sheathed within the immortal god, "Otherwise this is going to be very painful," He paused, smiling before he clarified, " for you."

Grell whimpered as Skoll began to move smoothly in and out of him, long rhythmic thrusts which stretched him mercilessly, filling him till he thought he may choke from it. Each thrust threatened to break him and little by little each one did. He felt his body relax even as his mind began to protest louder than ever. He was being fucked and there was nothing romantic or beautiful about it. It didn't even feel good. Whatever pleasure he thought he should be feeling was swallowed by the gravity and finality of it. He really was a whore, used and defiled so that Sebastian could get what he wanted. And what he wanted wasn't Grell, never would be.

Skoll was getting close, he could feel it. Grell body was so warm, so sinful with his pale skin and dark red hair. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed someone so much like this. Even though he couldn't completely destroy the reaper, he was very satisfying. However, there was one thing missing, one piece which would make his ecstasy complete. He groaned, debating whether he should do it or not. One little taste wouldn't hurt anything, or more specifically, one little taste wouldn't kill him.

Skoll continued thrusting as one strong sinewy arm snaked to the base of Grell's neck, palm down at the hollow of his throat. The blood made it hard to grip him properly, but Skoll didn't care. It was just a little taste, nothing more. He looked down at the reaper, who was staring back with green eyes impossibly wide. It was like Grell was staring his death in the face and he knew it.

The heartbeat beneath Skoll's palm was impossibly fast, threatening to give out all together. It beat itself against Grell's chest like a frantic sparrow caught in the dark, crushing itself against walls and windows as it tried to escape. It was impossibly human, driving Skoll to an even better high. What a wonderful trade he had made.

Grell's breath caught in his chest as Skoll began pulling his soul away. It was like being ripped down the middle and somehow surviving to endure the pain of it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to take a breath, tried to scream, but his lungs wouldn't obey. He just lay there, consciousness crumbling as Skoll continued to savor his soul and body at once.

There were wet sounds between them now, messy sounds of their two bodies coming together as one. Grell didn't know how he could hear it so clearly over the rushing din of his soul, but there it was, sickening in his ears. It was him, his body making those sounds, used for pleasure. The sound came faster as Skoll's thrusts quickened his pace. His body shook with the force and he turned his head away, finally resigning himself completely to the darkness. The rushing sounds of his soul subsided as Skoll moved both hands to Grell's waist, pulling the limp reaper against him again and again until he finally came inside him.

Through the pain Grell felt Skoll spill into him; waves of warmth that finalized his defilement. It was over; it was done, paid in full. Grell didn't even notice the angel soft kiss placed against his lips as Skoll withdrew. There was just the dull ache of his very core, body and soul.

Skoll turned to Stella, barking tersely, "Get him cleaned up."

Stella looked up with shimmering pink eyes in the dark. She was hungry and the whole scene which had played out before her only added to the gnawing need to hunt and consume. Surely Skoll would let her finish the reaper off, Shadow be damned.

Skoll ignored her obvious need, motioning to the door, "Go and get someone to clean him up, immediately."

Snapping back to the moment, Stella nodded, "Yes, Lord Skoll."

When the door was safely closed behind her, Skoll moved back to the unmoving reaper on his bed. Grell's hair fanned beneath him in a tangled mess, mingling with the rivulets of blood that covered much of his body in a swirling camouflage of crimson over pale ivory skin. Skoll moved to the knife still protruding from the damaged reaper's body, dislodging it with surprising gentleness.

He knelt beside the bed, cupping his hands together as if in prayer. He looked at Grell thoughtfully, touching his lips to his hands before opening his mouth to speak, "I wish you hadn't fought against me," There was a long pause, like he was deciding whether or to say more. Grell remained silent, as if sleeping, "At least then your first could have been… special."

"You are so cruel," Grell whispered to the dark, eyes closed.

"I am not cruel, young reaper. I outgrew that years ago," he replied, brushing a lone bloody tear off Grell's cheek. "But you need to understand what you're dealing with."

"All this, for that?" he croaked. "Are you serious? You did this to me to teach me a lesson?"

"No, of course not. I did it because I wanted to. I did it because Shadow hated the thought of me doing it. However, what you should take away from it is clarity."

Clarity was the farthest thing from Grell's mind at that point. He hurt. He was in pain like he had never experienced before. His body was on fire and his heart felt like it had all but left him to die. To make it worse, Skoll knew. That bastard knew exactly what it meant to fuck him. He took it from him and he knew it. How was this not cruelty of the worse kind? The sobs rose and the tears fell, leaving nothing but his echoing hitches in the dark. Skoll left it at that, disappearing into the gloom of his castle like smoke from a snuffed candle. He would return in the morning to give Grell the book he needed along with the binding reminder that he should keep his verbal contract with Shadow.


	11. Chapter 11: Rain

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to let all the wonderful, supportive readers who have been kind enough to review that there is a little fic-let posted just for them. It's to compensate for how badly I've been treating Grell in this story- so if you think you might enjoy something lighter and less demented, please check out "Purrfect Love". Thank you for all your reviews and support. It really makes my day brighter to hear what you have to say. It is why I continue to write.

Commodities: Chapter 11

It was late morning by the time Sebastian came to collect Grell. Mist still clung to the landscape in gauzy layers, making a slow dance of weak sunlight as it alternately let it peek through and shut it out. The light breeze carried the earthy scents of soil and mountain grasses through the air, adding a sense of ethereal innocence to the jagged land. To those unaware of the numerous demons flitting through the crags where fog lingered, it would have seemed magical.

Sebastian didn't bother announcing himself at the gate, opting for the more covert return through the parapet tower hall. He leapt gracefully onto the turret, walking along the exposed walkway and into the narrow wooden door at the far end. A flight of winding stairs later, he found himself in the southern hedge garden, surrounded by finely manicured shrubbery and trickling fountains.

He walked swiftly through, following the most direct of the meandering paths. The garden was designed for the wandering walker, with trails that swayed this way and that around the plants and sculptures, destination unknown and unimportant. The beauty was in the journey, something which neither Sebastian nor Skoll fully understood. The difference between the two demons, however, is that Skoll commissioned the garden to study the idea of it, journey rather than destination that is. But even that was somewhat of a farce, as he took the whole project through to completion in less than a month. The ever important end result being the garden which was supposed to make him better understand not always seeking the end result. It was a terribly ironic emulation of human philosophy.

As Sebastian cut through the center courtyard of the garden, he saw Skoll enter from the opposite side. The fair haired demon walked towards him smoothly, confident in his home turf advantage, should his dark haired counterpart wish to fight.

Sebastian continued towards Skoll as well, though he slowed his pace to hide the impatience in his stride. He was not interested in anything other than leaving with what he came for, vowing never to return to the castle or Skoll for any reason. Another lesson learned well past its prime.

"Shadow," Skoll called. The tone was deceptively friendly, just one more reminder that the demon lord was unconcerned about the entire situation, "I expected you hours ago. What has kept you away?"

There were a number of words that flew to the forefront of his thoughts, none of which he wanted to share with Skoll. Embarrassment, procrastination, anger, and frustration led the list quick firing through his mind. But he let the familiar smiling mask slide into place and replied, "I was just enjoying the view."

Skoll knew he was lying, but didn't care enough to call him out. In the battle for dominance, he had won absolutely. What did it matter if the other didn't want to admit defeat? "It is a beautiful morning."

"I've come for the reaper," Sebastian said, weary of the small talk he knew Skoll would want to trap him in. Small talk designed to cow him farther, twisting and interjecting small pricks of insult with seemingly innocent topics. "And I trust that you've upheld your end, correct?"

Skoll smile, eyes glinting in the wan daylight, "Yes Shadow, I've kept my part of the bargain. Your reaper is alive, he will do what he's told and he now possesses the knowledge to aid you in your foolish endeavor."

Foolish? It took Sebastian a minute to admit to himself that yes, the whole thing was a mishandled mess of stupidity. It was exactly how Relana wanted it to be, humiliating and difficult. He tore himself away from his thoughts. Skoll didn't need to realize just how frustrated he was, "Where is he?"

"Sleeping, I believe," Skoll swallowed an inappropriate chuckle, "He seemed quite exhausted after our time together."

"I would expect so," Sebastian replied flatly. "I would like to be on my way, if it is all the same to you. The witch is rather impatient."

"And to think all this time I thought you left us so you could call the shots." Skoll shook his head slowly, "How you disappoint me."

Sebastian ignored him, "You need not escort me, I know the way."

"I know you do. I wasn't planning on accompanying you." Skoll moved past him slowly, clasping his hands behind his back with a casual air, "Goodbye then. I don't believe we will see each other again."

"I hope that is the case," Sebastian replied absolutely, "I should not have come back to this place."

"Probably so," Skoll sighed, disappearing around the corner hedge behind him, "Again, goodbye."

Sebastian opened the door to Skoll's room without hesitation, silently slipping past the threshold. He was surprised to find the room completely black. No candle was lit to chase the shadows back. "Grell?" he called softly, stepping into the dark solitude. He knew the reaper was there. He could feel his presence clearly, even though he couldn't hear even the softest breathing.

When the other didn't respond, Sebastian flicked his wrist sending a candle on the night table alight, sputtering against the wax caked on its stubby wick. Its golden glow revealed the top of Grell's head, peeking from beneath the thick brown brocade of the comforter. His hands lay beside the tousled locks of hair, delicate fingers loosely curled in sleep. Tight gauze wrapped around one palm conspicuously; the first hint of what the flirtatious reaper had endured.

Sebastian stood beside the bed, looking down at his slender companion with a sad expression on his face. He still didn't feel guilty, but there was a growing sense of remorse tugging just below the surface. Giving Grell up had been more difficult than he had expected, and with it behind him he wished he had chosen a different path. Obnoxious as the reaper was, he hadn't done anything to warrant the sort of treatment Sebastian was sure he received. As Sebastian moved to touch, Grell's uninjured hand shrank beneath the blankets, unreceptive.

"Grell?" he asked quietly, noting how Grell's body tensed at the sound of his name. Sebastian was trying to be considerate, to be gentle, knowing that Grell was in a very fragile state, but the redhead seemed to be playing dead. If he was asleep he was an amazing listener in his repose.

Sebastian hooked one hand beneath the blankets, pulling it down around so he could see Grell's face. Fragile or not, he wanted to get going. This act would only be endured for so long. However angry Grell was, it would pale in comparison to Sebastian's anger if Skoll and his companions decided to keep them there. Or more specifically if they chose to keep Grell; none of them wanted Sebastian around.

Even in the flickering light of the single candle, the bruises on the reaper's face were obvious, they stood out against his pale skin like blossoms of purple ink, tracing over one cheek accusingly before bleeding over his swollen and split lip. As he pulled the covers down farther, more injuries glared up at him in stark accusation. Bite marks and cuts interspersed with bruising finger marks where Grell had been held too tightly, gave Sebastian a very clear picture of what transpired during the night. What he assumed was the particularly bad wound high on Grell's chest was expertly bound in white bandaging, wrapped several times over the crest of his shoulder and secured with a few long loops over his ribs.

Most of the injuries were self explanatory, but the ones which had actually been treated concerned him. He knew they weren't life threatening, but he was curious how they happened. Yes, curious was a much better word than concerned. He wasn't really concerned, "What happened?"

Grell slid his eyes open, revealing that he was indeed awake. The languid flutter of rousing was completely absent, covered by a critical glower. He had simply been waiting for Sebastian to ask something stupid like that.

"What do you think happened?" He asked softly, voice hovering somewhere between coy and neutral. That tone which played with anger but never actually fired it upon its victim, patiently awaiting that person to bring it upon themselves instead. He glanced over himself with evident knowledge. It wasn't as if he hadn't been there while each mark was made, "It looks obvious enough to me."

Sebastian bit back a stinging retort; opting instead to change the subject. It really was quite obvious after all, in the general sense, "Skoll said you're prepared to-"

Grell lifted his good hand, twisting the wrist back and forth to jingle a short length of chain attached to a heavy metal cuff. How had Sebastian missed that? "The book is on the nightstand and I am, for all intensive purposes, bound until this is over."

Well that was that. All that was left was to get to Relana's island and put Ciel Phantomhive back together. After that, everyone would be free of everyone else. Sebastian would be free of Relana, Grell would be free of him, and Ciel would be free of the contract and would incredibly get another chance at life. When it was put into those terms, it looked to be such a fairy tale. However, everyone involved knew otherwise. This was a nightmare, orchestrated by a witch who didn't even realize it. Not that she would have cared to know.

"Then let us leave, Grell." Sebastian said, offering a hand to the prone reaper.

Grell looked at the hand passively, but made no move to take it, "I don't want to."

Sebastian knit his brows quizzically. After all that, Grell didn't want to leave? That just made no sense at all. If anything, Sebastian figured Grell would be begging to leave, even if it was with the one who trapped him to begin with. There was no way he wanted to hand around with the possibility of more torture to come.

Grell caught his confused look, "I do, want to leave." He corrected, "But I don't want to move."

Ah, that made more sense, "We'll take it slow. After we get out of the mountains we can-"

"I'm not getting up," Grell said with finality, "I'm tired, I hurt- everywhere, and the last person on this Earth I want to be around right now, is you."

"I see," Sebastian said, picking up the book on the nightstand. He flipped through the leather bound pages, not really making a point to read so much as catch a few words which would assure him that this book was indeed the one Grell needed. When he was satisfied, he tucked it into his vest where it would be safe.

Sebastian considered just carrying Grell out, but thought coercion might be the better route. It had worked well enough to get him that far and if he did the right things, in the right order, he might yet salvage Grell's obedience beyond what Skoll had ensured. In his mind it would always be better to have someone do things for him because they wanted to, rather than because they were being forced to. Not to mention that in delicate situations which involved putting him in a very vulnerable position with someone like Grell, tempering the hairpin trigger between love and hate was paramount.

Sebastian sat down beside Grell, catching the reaper's cuffed hand swiftly, lest the other pull it away, "I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing the open palm gently.

Grell was shocked. So shocked in fact, that he didn't pull his hand away immediately and watched in silence as Sebastian brought his bandaged hand to his lips as well, kissing the palm very lightly before moving to his wrist and kissing it as well.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Sebastian continued, bringing both hands to his chest and he leaned forward, dangerously close to Grell's bruised face. He touched his forehead to the young death god's, looking straight into those hurt green eyes imploringly, "I should have never left you behind."

He then reached for Grell's lips with his own, drawing him into a deep but gentle kiss. He was wary of the fresh cuts which laced the other's mouth, keeping the pressure light even as his tongue explored the moist cavern passionately.

Grell responded to the kiss, arching up slightly to bring the demon closer. For a moment he forgot about glaring wounds that covered his body, he forgot about the terrible marks on his face. There was just the kiss between them while everything else fell away like the rain on the clear glass of a window.

Sebastian smirked against Grell's mouth, drawing back as he let his concerned face take precedence once more. The reaper was falling for it, despite everything; Grell was melting into him like nothing had happened. He just needed to cinch the deal shut.

"I should have been the one to take you, last night." Sebastian purred, closing his eyes for the start of another kiss.

Grell made a small distressed sound, pushing himself into the bed as he loosed his hands from Sebastian's grip. In the swift motion that followed, he sent his good hand flying, slapping Sebastian solidly across the face.

Sebastian sat up, cupping a hand to his stung cheek as he looked down at the seething redhead. What had just happened? One minute everything seemed to be on track and the next… Well the next, Grell was looking at him with daggers of hate and he was feeling the raw ping that came from being slapped.

"Is that all you bastards think about?" He hissed, pushing himself up against the pillows as his eyes dared Sebastian to respond. "Is that all I'm good for? Fucking and fixing your damn problems?"

Inwardly, Sebastian was thinking that yes, those were probably the two most useful things Grell was good for. He wouldn't have put it in those blunt terms, and he wouldn't have considered the 'fucking' part unless someone one else was doing it, seeing as he had no interest. And yet, he scrambled for an answer.

As it turned out, he didn't need one. Grell grabbed the edge of the blankets and threw them back in one wide sweep, revealing the rest of his naked, damaged self to Sebastian, who was still trying to process the situation with some sort of logical rationale, "If that's what you want, then take it Sebby. I'm right here." Grell said, voice cracking and laced with bitterness. "Just use me, you're so good at it."

"Grell," he began softly, moving to touch the other's face. This was so silly, even for someone as passionate and hopeless as he.

But the reaper grabbed his wrist half way to his face, "But believe me, Sebastian Michaelis, this will be the last time I ever offer myself to you."

Was that a threat? Or maybe it was a promise? Or perhaps it was just an angry defiant statement. Whatever it was, Sebastian didn't like it at all. He was doing his best to at least pretend he cared, to salve the angry wounds he had allowed to be inflicted. Was he not being kind, was he not being sensitive to Grell's fragile feelings, even though there was no real reason to be other than his personal aesthetics for conducting business? Fine, if that was how the reaper wanted to play his cards, then just fine.

Sebastian twisted out of Grell's grip easily, rising from the bed as he allowed his cold mask to fall back into place. If the reaper wanted to misuse the charity of compassion Sebastian was giving him, so be it. Picking up the neatly folded clothes which had been placed on the chair beside the nightstand, he casually tossed them onto the bed, "Get dressed."

Grell looked at the clothes in distaste. They weren't his clothes, HIS clothes were ruined, "Aren't you going to fuck me, Sebby?" he growled, anger evident, opening his legs suggestively.

"No, I'm not," Sebastian said evenly, situating himself in the chair, "Get dressed or I will hold you down and dress you myself."

"Why not?" Grell yelled. With the emotions roiling in him, he knew he should be getting ready to cry, but no tears threatened to fall.

"Because I don't want to, Sutcliff. I don't want to fuck you." Sebastian said testily, "Furthermore, if you really must know, I kissed you because I wanted you to help me. But I think you know that already. I have no interest in you or any man for that matter- and yes, you are a man, no matter how you choose to refer to yourself."

For a moment Grell was speechless. What the demon had said was worse than being abandoned, worse than the actual rape. It was rejection with irrevocable malice. Grell realized Sebastian was using him the moment he stepped out of the room last night, but this cut so much deeper. He had assumed that there was at least some small bit of attraction, of lust, between them. But he had been wrong.

"So for the record, I don't care to be around you either. You are a pest and while I need your service, I do not need your attitude." Sebastian was getting angry. He had tried to play the role Grell was so used to seeing, but without a contract to back it up, the façade was much thinner, "Get dressed."

What had been hot anger crumbled to tepid sadness at Sebastian's outburst. As much as he wanted to lash back at the man who mistreated him so terribly, the words just wouldn't come out. They clung to his windpipe, squeezing the breath from his lungs without allowing him to make a sound.

Grell grabbed the white undershirt from the top of the pile with a shaky hand, pulling it over his head awkwardly. His wounds protested sharply as he raised his arms up, severed flesh sliding ungraciously against itself. If he wasn't careful it would start bleeding again, and he doubted Sebastian wanted to redress it. The plain white dress shirt followed, buttoned slowly despite Grell's practiced hand at dressing himself. His hurt hand felt stiff and awkward trying to hold the little white buttons.

When it came time for the brown slacks he grimaced, turning himself to sit on the edge of the bed as he pulled them up. He paused mid-thigh; that was as far as they'd go without him actually getting up. He flexed both hands nervously in his lap, looking down at the short row of buttons there. He felt a little sick as it was, and everything 'down there' was still feeling the repercussions of being violated. Standing seemed out of the question.

With a half lift, he balanced his weight against the edge of the bed with his thighs, scooting the slacks over his lean hips. The motion caused his stomach to roll dangerously, threatening to loose its contents. Not that there was much, if anything, in there for him to throw up. Grabbing his nearby shoes by the laces he dragged them over and also pulled them on. The one familiar item on his body. With his legs dangling off the bed he stretched back onto his side, using his arm as a pillow as he waited for the nausea to pass. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so ill.

Sebastian glanced over to the newly dressed death god, mouth set in a grim line. He stewed in his own uncomfortable situation, mentally adding Grell to part of the problem rather than the solution, "If you're finished dressing, I would like to go."

"Sebby please," Grell whined softly, "I don't feel well. Can we please, I don't know…"

"Don't call me that," he warned in reply, rising from the chair, "And I don't care."

As Sebastian rose, Grell pushed himself up from the bed, teetering on shaky legs. He did his best to maintain a glare, but he was certain that he looked more haggard than anything. His entire body was in revolt over getting up, stings and aches mixed with a nauseous vertigo which threatened blackout. It only took three short steps for it to make good on its threat.

Grell's eyes fluttered as he crumpled forward, hovering just outside consciousnesses. With buckling knees; he just fell.

Sebastian moved to his side quickly, not registering the reflexive maneuver until Grell's limp body was clasped close to his chest. The shinigami's arms hung at his sides, testament that he had not tried to catch himself. His knees flexed as Sebastian tried to hoist him back to his feet unsuccessfully, finally just scooping the fragile young death god into his arms, "You nuisance."

Grell felt deceptively light in his arms as Sebastian carried him through the castle halls. One arm cradled his bony shoulders while the other hooked beneath his knees. He carried Ciel this way hundreds of times and though Grell was undeniably an adult, it felt much the same. He kept the delicate body tilted against him so that Grell's head rested against his shoulder and his arms lay tucked between them. He had to be careful about the long curtain of Grell's hair. He could feel it brushing against his knee as he walked, and it wouldn't take much to trip and fall.

From the shadowy doorways and side halls, he could feel eyes upon him. Demons wondering about the one who returned in butlers' livery watched him pass with curiosity in their unearthly eyes. With the red reaper in his arms they weren't sure what to make it. Shadow was different, but they had never known him to keep such eclectic company. If the protective way he carried the reaper was to be an indicator, it seemed he was not so much food as friend. Sebastian let them think what they would; he just wanted to be gone.

Thunder growled in the distance as Sebastian flew down the narrow trail along the cliff edge, covering ground with the fleet grace of his demonic namesake. Well, not a namesake so much as an easy moniker given to him decades ago. Either way, he was much more than Shadow ever was. Though he was not entirely sure he was strictly Sebastian any longer, either.

The dotty sun from the morning was swept away by the brooding clouds which muscled their way from the north, eager to loose their fury upon the craggy landscape. Storms didn't mess around here; they were always a testament to nature's ability to beat down its own creation with water and electricity, howling its discontent with wind that could rip flesh from bone.

The rain started to fall just before he reached the base of the mountain, pattering lightly for only a few minutes before thrumming into a downpour. It pelted the demon as he moved swiftly over the worn wagon road leading back to the small village, soaking him in minutes. The reaper was a little drier, protected by the incline of Sebastian's body as he ran. In the back his mind, Sebastian was growing more and more concerned about Grell's condition. Despite the chilling air and now the cold rain, the reaper in his arms showed no sign of rousing. Not even true exhaustion should have been so absolute.

Trees dotted the roadside heavily and Sebastian took the opportunity to duck beneath the cover of the foliage in hopes that the first wave of rain would let up soon. It wasn't much farther to the village, but the weather was getting bad enough that even he was having a hard time seeing the road ahead. In the open the rain fell so hard that it seemed to bounce, flying upward with as much force as it had coming down. It was a true Romanian storm.

Sebastian leaned against the thick trunk of a beech tree, sinking down to let some of Grell's weight rest on his thighs. It wasn't that he was tired so much as it was the rain. It did things to him, just as the ocean could. It was strange how nature's tears could alter his state; bring him down to Earth so absolutely. Like silver bullets it shot burning holes through his demonic armor, leaving him weak and vulnerable, so close to human.

He looked down at Grell, genuine worry finding a foothold in the pit of his stomach. He looked pale in the gray light allowed through the thick canopy. The bruises only added to the severe contrast, making him look beautiful and ugly at once, damaged. Sebastian brushed Grell's damp scarlet bangs away from his eyes, drawing back silently as the reaper opened his eyes.

Grell could feel Sebastian's strong arms around him, warm despite the rain falling upon them both. He could feel the subdued wind against his clammy skin, chilling even through the shield of trees around them. He shivered and tucked closer to the demon, sadness and distrust cast aside for warmth. He searched Sebastian's eyes for an answer, any answer to any question. He looked for something to latch on to as he felt his existence spinning down to a mire of self hate. Why was it like this? Why was he so unappreciated, not just by Sebastian, but by almost everyone he encountered? What made him so unlikable, so annoying? Was his nature truly so intolerable that he was undeserving of the smallest bit of companionship?

He was surprised to see Sebastian looking back at him softly, sadly. His jet black hair hung heavily about his face, dark spikes dripping with the tears of the sky, falling gently from the tips as the water coursed down from the crown of his head. His skin looked wan and cold, but held an angelic quality not unlike the flawless porcelain of a doll. It was a quality which amazingly did not detract from his undeniable masculinity. Even as Grell's soul bled from wounds carved deep by the demon, he couldn't help but want to fall farther, fall again, and maybe this time he would be saved, rather than left to crash. Tears which he thought he had lost welled quietly, falling with the rain that struck and pooled before falling in thin rivulets, unobserved.

As much as he wanted to understand why Sebastian had left him to the mercy of the merciless, he had a confession that he felt the other needed to hear. He didn't know why it was so important he knew, it seemed unlikely that he would even care.

"Sebby, last night…" He started, voice catching as he stifled a sob. He couldn't even say it.

With a heavy sigh, Sebastian pulled Grell closer, tucking his head beneath his chin. Looking at the reaper made him feel better and worse at once and it was making his stomach ache. He pulled his free hand around to tangle in Grell's wet hair in an effort to silently convey his guilt, and to apologize.

"Last night," Grell said quietly, finding it easier to speak now that Sebastian couldn't see him, "Was my first time, doing that."

Sebastian let his eyes slide shut, wanting the darkness to swallow the truth of Grell's statement entirely. He knew the reaper hadn't had a lot of experience, but he had assumed at some point, with someone, surely, "What about Madame Red?"

It was a vain attempt to absolve himself and he knew it. He could feel a sad smirk tremble against him as Grell nuzzled against his chest, hiding as best he could, "It wasn't that sort of love, Sebby. Even you could realize that."

Silence settled between them and lasted for several minutes. Thunder growled overhead and the rain continued its loud rushing sound all around them, pattering where it hit foliage on its descent. The noise made the thoughts of both reaper and demon languid; easing the transitions between them, quieting some of the more difficult emotions each was feeling.

It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence, tilting Grell's head back gently to look at him, "I am so sorry."

"Sebby, why-" Grell started, unsure of Sebastian's poignant change. Why had he been so harsh before? Why had he let it happen to begin with? He hushed as Sebastian's cool fingers touched his lips.

"I wish I could take it all back," the demon continued, "And though I cannot love you, I will try to be what you need me to be, to repair what I have broken."

Grell wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and fight with all the fury of his pain. He wanted to defy the sweet apologies Sebastian was giving him with all his might, breaking the false words like glass, sending the shards back at the man who dared utter them to him. But he no longer had the fight in him. He was weak and he had already suffered enough; not just at Sebastian's hands, but each time he had put his heart on the line, only to have it sent back in pieces. He didn't want to play the coy and confident hunter and he didn't want to be the vicious killer. He just wanted what underneath he had always wanted, to be loved. If only Sebastian meant what he said; it wasn't love, but in his estimation it was close enough.

As if sensing Grell's trepidation, knowing how many times he had guised the truth in a tight web of omission and word play, Sebastian leaned in close, touching Grell's nose with his own. The rain fell from Sebastian's hair to Grell's in quick drops, mingling black and red strands as the water closed the gap between them.

"Please believe me," Sebastian breathed, pulling him up into a loving kiss. Unlike the kisses before, it asked permission to have and taste the other. It did not demand, it did not dominate, it simply existed for its own sake, to please the other. It said thank you, it begged forgiveness and it was the pledge of appreciation. Grell had been there to help him, suffered for his needs, had lost precious things because of him, and deserved at least that much in return; I acknowledge your sacrifice on my behalf, thank you, I'm sorry.

Grell hesitantly brought his bandaged hand up to snake around Sebastian's neck, he believed him, if for no other reason than to call it a lie was to lose all hope. He felt Sebastian pull him closer, deepening the kiss with sweet ferocity. It was exactly what Grell wanted, what he needed to feel okay.

When Sebastian broke the kiss, Grell felt the blood stop cold in his veins. The possibility of it being more of the same, more of Sebastian's serpent tongue winding him up to get what he wanted struck like ice within him. He felt himself ready to die right there, in the arms of his unrequited love, crushed as surely as stone beneath a sledge.

Sebastian felt him stiffen in jagged apprehension and kissed his upper lip reassuringly as he hooked his arm back beneath Grell's knees and rose, "Settle yourself, I'm just getting us out of the rain."

And with that they were off again, leaping through the woods towards the village on the other side. The road may have been a bit faster, but the protection afforded by the trees was worth the extra distance.

Grell kept his arms locked around Sebastian's neck for balance as he looked ahead, amazed at the agile way the demon sailed over the leaf littered, forest floor. He changed direction easily, commanding perfect balance over rocks and tree roots alike, dancing with his dark precision against nature's green bosom. It was beautiful and awe inspiring at once. He wished they had traveled this way on their journey to the castle, but Sebastian would never have done that. Grell wasn't even sure what the difference now was, but Sebastian was not the same. He hoped it would remain so, paralleling the thought with the unending fear that he would show it all to be a lie.


	12. Chapter 12: Promises Made and Broken

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It has taken a long time to get this chapter out, and for that I apologize. Thank you for being so patient! I probably haven't edited it as closely as I should have, but I am eager to hear what you guys think of fit. I'm sorry for any typos and awkward sentences. I'm sure as I read it over more and more I will find and hopefully fix them. I just couldn't let you wait any longer. The last chapter was kinda slim on reviews. Thank you so much for those that did review it! Has the story gotten boring? Gone a strange direction? Are you still mad at me for torturing Grell (Sorry, I enjoyed it... I really did)? I guess what I'm saying is.... please review, my poor Muse is hungry. I love hearing from each and every one of you. You really let me know someone is reading this long... drawn out.... procrastinating... character mutilating piece of work. Chapter 2 of Purrfect Love almost done too!!!

Commodities: Chapter 12

Grell watched rain pelt against the window of their tavern room in a seemingly endless deluge. The bottle paned glass sent gloomy shadows across the room with its rounded distortions, made more organic from the weeping water flowing beyond. The shadows snaked down the grayish plaster walls and along the worn wood floor, back-lit by the murky light allowed beyond the thick grip of the storm clouds. He could hear Sebastian behind him, moving quietly about as he set about lighting a fire in the small iron bound hearth.

The demon had grown quiet, leaving Grell to wonder if their emotional conversation in the rain truly had been another fabricated exchange. He didn't know if he should try to talk to the man or leave it alone for the time being. He felt so drained. It was unclear to him which was more exhausting, his forced encounter with Skoll or the mental anguish of Sebastian's treatment. Whichever it was, he felt like no amount of sleep would ever make him feel normal again, which was saying a lot considering his life span was infinite.

The crackle of flames jarred his senses, putting him on edge despite their familiarity. Everything felt just a little bit dangerous. It was like the predator in him was dead, driven to a violent end by the cold truth; he could be hunted, he could be hurt, and he had been polluted in the most intimate of ways. He could still feel Skoll's hands digging into his hips, rocking inside him as he neared his climax. He cringed, wrapping his arms around himself as he grabbed at his shirt sleeves. It had been so humiliating to be spread out like that, everything bared and open. It made him feel so dirty.

At his back Grell could feel the growing warmth of the fire, but it did little to chase the chill of his thoughts away. Sebastian's continued silence didn't help at all. As the moment of Skoll's release played itself over and over in his mind, vivid and unstoppable, he sat down on the bed, doubling over so his face rested against his knees. With his screwed his eyes shut he held his breath. Why wouldn't the moment pass? Why did he have to keep thinking about it? "Sebby," he called helplessly, tightening his grip on both sleeves.

Sebastian glanced up from the fire at the sound of Grell's voice. From his crouched position at the hearth he could see the redhead tightly tucked against himself, red hair falling around his face and down his back in a thick cascade. Sebastian could guess at the cause of his distress, though he really didn't want to play too much into it. Now out of the rain, he could lock his emotional self away, distance himself from the feelings he was uncomfortable with. Yet it seemed unnecessarily unfair. After all, Grell had been quick to let him back into his heart, once his apology had been genuine. But was that really what he wanted, for Grell to latch back onto him when he could get what he wanted without it? The answer was both yes and no, but ultimately he decided to be kind. Even if that meant leaving his emotional barriers down for awhile; something he hadn't done since his time on the isle, with her.

Sebastian moved to the bed in one fluid motion, kneeling in front of the tightly balled reaper. He placed his hands on Grell's trembling calves, peering beneath the thick scarlet wave of his bangs, "Grell?"

He could hear Sebastian's voice just beyond his self imposed darkness. The voice was clear and strong even with him trying to close off everything beyond the false safety of his mind. The same mind that was replaying the ugly things which had been done to him, more vividly captured than any cinematic record he had ever witnessed. If anything ever happened to him, he made the disturbing note that the reaper assigned to him would know what happened as well, in minute detail from his record. He wasn't sure what was worse, an eternity with the memory or a death than that would share that memory.

Sebastian gently cupped his hands over Grell's ears, tipping his head so that their foreheads met. It was an odd angle since Grell's muscles refused to let Sebastian lift his head, "Grell?" he said again, putting pressure where their heads met, "What do you need?"

Grell half opened his eyes, keeping his neck tightly locked, "I don't know. I just…"

"Why don't you lie down?" he offered, using more force as he pushed Grell into an upright position with his head, "I think you need some more rest."

It was true, Grell needed more rest. But that wasn't really the problem. It was the thoughts, the dark insipid thoughts that wouldn't stop playing. Again and again they ran in an endless loop across his mind, reminding his body of how it felt, each moment recaptured in agonizing detail, "I feel so dirty."

Ah, so that was it, Sebastian thought, "Grell, you aren't dirty."

"I am," Grell argued, giving to Sebastian's pressure as he was pushed back onto the bed.

Sebastian shifted his legs onto the bed, climbing up after to lean over the frantic redhead. He placed one arm either side of Grell's head with one knee beside his waist. The other foot remained planted on the floor for balance, "What makes you think you're dirty?"

Thunder rolled loudly outside, followed by the quick clap of lightning. The bright flash lit up the small bedroom in brilliant overexposure, then receded back again. Grell kept his eyes locked on Sebastian's. That question, that direct question, why he felt dirty. His mouth moved in short tics, trying to form words that just couldn't quite come out. He felt dirty because he had been fingered, fucked, and been made to suffer feeling another man's seed flow into his most intimate of places. He could still feel it, that sensation of being filled, used as nothing more than means for pleasure, a body, a toy. Grell tore his eyes away from Sebastian, resting his gaze self consciously on the dingy white pillow beneath his head, "Everything."

"Hush, I'm sorry I asked," Sebastian decided he didn't really want Grell to answer his question. It wasn't like he didn't have a fairly clear picture already.

Sebastian placed the lightest of kisses on Grell's lips, moving to kiss the soft pout more completely before touching a second featherweight touch to the corner of his mouth, trailing more on his way to Grell's throat.

Grell bristled at the soft line of kisses Sebastian left on him. They should have felt nice, but fresh instincts of self preservation warned and rejected them. Just as before he felt his heartbeat and breath quicken uncomfortably, "Sebby?" He asked shakily, trying to worm his way out from under the other, "What are you doing?"

Opening his mouth, Sebastian laved at the side of Grell's neck, causally undoing the top button of his shirt with one hand as he moved farther down. He could feel Grell's hastening pulse, strong against his mouth as the arteries throbbed against his tongue and lips. He drew back to look the nervous shinigami in the eyes, "Do you trust me?"

The immediate answer that sprung to Grell's lips was, no, he didn't trust him. But he found himself saying something else, "I want to, I just don't think-"

"Then don't think." Sebastian breathed, settling down beside him, "Get some rest, we've got a very long trip come morning."

* * *

The isle loomed low on the horizon, a ragged break in the otherwise even horizon. The vibrant green and gray of its hills shone black against the electric orange of sunrise. Sebastian squinted against the burning light, eyes reflecting gold in its intense glow as they skimmed the top of gentle swells pushing towards shore.

The time had finally come to make good, and as they docked the small pelican boat, Relana was already waiting expectantly. The pier stretched before them like a cattle chute, guiding them straight to where the witch stood. She was a pale statue wrapped in green and brown silks, unmoving and unfeeling as the marble she so resembled. Around her shoulders was the ever present black cloak tipped with raven feathers, matching those woven into her hair, all whipping around her slim frame in the stiff breeze. Beside her Sinah watched the demon and shinigami with blank focus, musing quietly about their purpose.

Sebastian saw Sinah even before they docked, his ethereal daughter, memory of her mother, clothed in a dress of indigo. As before, she showed no sign of recognition. No sign of anything really. If it was possible, she was even more stoic than he. Relana had dressed her in a dress of indigo, wrapped in a cloak of soft gray, decked with the downy gray feathers of gull. A few silvery feathers had been tied into her hair as well, the first signs of her occult ties. Sebastian was fairly certain that they had not been there at their last meeting and it make him feel cold in his skin, like he was losing the daughter that in all honesty, he never had.

Once face to face, Sebastian could feel Relana straighten, giving Grell a very hard look. For his part the reaper returned her look somewhat warily, not trying to give too much away. Apparently they had met at some point without Sebastian's knowledge. What an exchange that must have been, he thought to himself.

"Hello again," Relana said sardonically, ignoring Sebastian, "I should have guessed he would use you for this, seeing as you already reeked of him when I saw you last." She squinted a bit, leaning in as if to get a better look at the red haired man before her, "But it seems he isn't the only demon you've been keeping company with, how disturbing."

Sebastian watched from the corner of his eye as Grell flipped his hair back over his shoulder in a show of confident strut, opening his mouth for a retort. No matter what he was about to say, Sebastian knew it could not be good. He cut him off before he had the chance, "Grell, this is Relana of the Earthen Realm, and this is Sinah, my daughter."

Grell froze with such conviction that it took both Relana and Sebastian by surprise. It was like time just forgot to move him forward at that moment, leaving him in stasis. The only sound between the four of them was the heavy pound of the surf, coarse white noise to cover the tracks of thought. Sebastian kept his expression carefully controlled and though his cold gaze asked the same for his companion, it was completely lost in the other's shock.

The witch watched in silent satisfaction as the reaper's composure faltered heavily, jade eyes growing to near impossible width and sharkish mouth falling open in shock as time seemed to remember his existence. Apparently the demon had neglected to mention a few things to him. She found that interesting, to say the least. Not that she knew why he should care, unless there was something more between them than even she had considered.

Sebastian cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence which followed, pricked by Relana's inappropriate smile. Her bitter qualities were things at the top of his 'best to forget' list. Nothing would satisfy him better than when he could leave the isle and never find a reason to return, "I think it would be best if we got this underway."

"Of course, Demon," Relana cooed, catching Sinah's hand in hers as she turned on heel. She walked purposefully towards the open cave mouth set a couple hundred feet back from the beach, gait light and unfettered. Again, he noted just how inappropriate her reactions were. She really was a monster, though not one like him. She was unsettling like an unbalanced dog, wagging her tail one moment while she crushed her victim's throat the next. He barely heard her over the pounding surf as she added, "It only took you four times longer than agreed."

* * *

Sebastian swayed gently in his bonds, upside down over the Ciel's frozen casket. He was close enough that he could touch the boy with the tips of his hair if he stretched, yet he felt a world apart, as if he faced the boy in a dream. It seemed like an eternity since he had seen him, memories gently fogged out of focus. His attachment was gone, sealed away with the soul he had consumed. Would that attachment reaffirm itself once set free? Or would it dissolve into nothingness with the broken contract? Beyond that, he began to consider what might happen if the powers in Hell caught wind of his barter. Whatever was left of Ciel, in his current state, belonged to the dark. Affixing the bonds as they once were meant he was out of Hell's reach, and given the chance at a new life, would never find himself in in the unfortunate position of being condemned. It was a bit dependent upon who would eventually judge him, but if he was in England he was sure the shinigami would look kindly upon his record. As he hung, he could feel the last vestiges of emotion draining. It was probably better that way. He knew better than most how dangerous feelings could be.

From his vantage point he could see the strange serenity of Ciel's cold repose. The soft cheeks and pouty mouth he remembered from each morning before he awoke. The frail body he had clasped to his in every moment of danger, light and meager even then. He supposed the calm made sense, considering he was dead, but in some of his other dealings there had been less gentle finality. He had been correct to assume the ice would keep Ciel's body safe, though the flesh at the very tip of his nose, ears, and fingers had begun to turn gray, a sign that his reprieve from decay was not infinite.

Grell moved around him deftly, tightening the ice laced ropes around his naked shoulders before running them up his back to his ankles. The instructions weren't too particular about the binding, though Grell knew he would have to have clean access to the demon's chest and stomach for the ritual. Just as in reaping, the memories would need to be cut from the flesh. However unlike his usual job, he needed be to find the light reflecting at the back of the reel and separate Sebastian's from Ciel's. He only hoped there wouldn't be too many other glows to confuse him. This was not his area of expertise and even with that knowledge he was already taking some liberties with the instructions. For instance, the book had called for Sebastian to be completely nude, but Grell was quite sure that it was unnecessary. He had opted to leave his pants on, unwilling to recross the fledgling boundaries imposed by his ordeal.

Sebastian wasn't sure what to think about this new, careful, subdued Grell. A mere week ago, the reaper would have offered, no demanded, to rip the clothes right off his body. Now he seemed uncomfortable at the idea. It was somewhat disturbing. Had everything that stamped Grell so peculiarly erased in one evening of hurt? His personality had been so strong, so absolute. It was what made him... well, him. Of course the logical side of his mind chimed what it made little difference. It was done, whatever his night with Skoll did to him was already the past. It mattered even less considering after he was done with the witch, he would make a point to melt back into the shadows and leave Grell to get back to his life without him. It would be better for all concerned. Or at least it would better for him.

To his side he saw Grell's knee balance on the edge of the dais as he reached up farther, securing the last end of rope to his ankles. A sharp tug rocked his suspended body towards the reaper, causing his check to brush against the Grell's inner thigh.

Grell was quick to correct the sway, placing a hand against Sebastian's inky hair, "Sorry."

"It's alright," Sebastian replied gently, "I think I'm just glad to get this over with."

Sebastian's gaze traveled across the iridescent cavern as his angle would allow, coming to rest on the pair of witches a few feet away. They both watched him with cool observation, twin-like pillars of ice amongst the rainbow spires, unmoving.

Grell followed his gaze, moving between the knot he was working on and the girls, "So, you never mentioned you had a family."

The comment was laced with something akin to envy, though it was obvious Grell was trying to hide it, "Not exactly a family," Sebastian corrected him.

"Is that why you wouldn't kill her?" he asked, twisting Sebastian around to fasten the last knot around his chest, "You had a… thing?"

"Thing?"

"You had a kid with her and things went south, so you can't bring yourself to-"

"Oh Grell," Sebastian laughed, sound bouncing off the chilly walls of the cavern mirthfully, "It isn't like that."

Grell paused, looking down at the tied demon in puzzlement. That seemed to be the extremely obvious fact of the matter. One woman, plus one demon, equaled the rather creepy and quiet child. "Huh?"

"It was her sister. I was in a relationship with her and that that was the result of our love." He stopped cold, watching Grell's face fall to hurt at the statement. He had forgotten to consider that the reaper might still be coming to grips with the complexities of why he wouldn't love him. The excuse that he 'couldn't' just flew out the window, "It was a long time ago," he concluded lamely.

"Yeah well," Grell chuckled sadly, "It isn't my business anyway, right?"

"No, not really," was the idle reply.

"I'm all done here," Grell said quietly, bringing his face down to Sebastian's as he rested his arms on the edge of the iced rim. He looked into Sebastian's unreadable amber eyes, his own mirroring a sad turmoil, "This is your last chance to renege on this. Just say the word and I'll cut you down so we can paint the walls of this place red."

Sebastian smirked knowingly; that was the Grell he could recognize, "It's good to know you're not completely lost to yourself."

Grell placed a chase kiss on Sebastian's reversed lips, "I had to offer. So is that a yes?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I've come this far and I would hate for everything to have been for nothing."

The way Sebastian said, 'everything' turned Grell's thoughts inward. He didn't really want to think about the price HE paid for Sebastian to get this far. Though it may have actually made him feel better if Sebastian abandoned this course. Their mutual crime would bring them together in a way Grell could definitely appreciate. Love and sex aside, it was a bond he had enjoyed with Madame Red. He would have liked to have that again, if he couldn't have what he really wanted, "I'm ready," he said, drawing back.

In his inverted view of the world, Sebastian could see Grell reach into his pocket and pull out a very familiar coil of chain. The teeth gleamed in the iridescent light of the cavern, sharp barbs strung along a running link that could only have come from the reaper's very distinctive scythe.

"Where's the rest of it?" Sebastian asked, muscles tightening against his restraints despite his resolution to go through with the ritual.

"My flat," he mumbled, looping the devious tooth laden chain around his good hand with great care before using the kerchief from Sebastian's coat pocket to protect his fingers from the dangerous edges, "I didn't want anyone getting suspicious, if they checked up on me. Besides," he continued wryly, "I don't think my instrument has the precision I need for this."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Sebastian agreed calmly, "So is this going to be painful?"

"Quite," was the short reply.

Grell hopped upon the edge of the dais, teetering before he placed a light hand against Sebastian's calve.

"I don't think that will make deep enough cuts," a voice said beside him.

Grell looked down at Relana with a scowl. When had she moved? The more that woman talked the less he liked her and considering their initial meeting ended up with him face down in the street, he already had a poor impression of her as an individual, "Do you have something better?"

She looked up at him coldly, flipping the bone handle of a short dagger in her palm, "I do, actually."

"Was that the thing you used on me?" he asked cynically.

She turned the dagger this way and that in the light, studying it with mock interest, "No, I think that was another one. This is actually much sharper."

Grell careful knelt and took the blade offered, subduing the short twinge in his back begging him to turn that knife back on its owner. It would serve her right.

Grell started by feeling along the soft skin of Sebastian's stomach with his bare fingers, touching the gentle dip at the center as he looked for the right spot. Even though the demon hung quietly in his bonds, Grell couldn't help but feel very wrong about what he was going to do. He had a blood lust in him, but it got squeamish when things slowed to a methodical pace. That was where his other feelings had a chance to trickle through his mind. There was a gentle side to him and it was currently making it hard to concentrate. Despite that he touched the tip of the blade just above Sebastian's navel, pressing down with careful pressure. The blade cut smoothly, slicing the skin with disconcerting ease. The witch had not been lying when she said it was very sharp.

Dark blood, hot despite the chill of the room, began to drip down the knife blade, onto the handle and his hand in increasing measure. He could feel the familiar wetness drip over his knuckles, twisting a short trail around his slender wrist before falling. The sensation did little for Grell's state. He could feel the uncomfortable flush of nausea tracing over his skin, followed by the chill which would only intensify it. He dragged the knife downward, cutting a very straight and deliberate path towards Sebastian's chest. The knife was just deep enough, and as the wet gore began to flow in earnest, running up Sebastian's body and face before dripping in thick rivulets from his hair to Ciel's unmoving corpse.

Thick spatters rained onto the boy's body, instantly melting the fine velvet of ice which covered him. It was like the beginnings of a storm, light at first but with quickly increased insistence.

Grell watched the blood flow over Sebastian, following the contours of his body as it traveled up his neck and down over his chin. It began to flow up over his closed eyes like blinding paint, covering his visage in crimson. Nausea grew as he made the lateral cuts across the crook of each of Sebastian's bound arms, quickening his breath. He needed to finish quickly or he wouldn't be able to do it at all. He knew he shouldn't be bothered by the blood, but after everything it was the last thing he wanted to see. Even if Sebastian had agreed to indulge in the blood lust, killing the two silent observers, Grell was beginning to realize the only thing which would save him from feeling sick would be the rush of the murder. He couldn't be sure how he might feel once the adrenaline was gone.

With two final, somewhat shallow, slices against Sebastian's exposed neck he was done with the blade and let it drop to the ice covered floor. He avoided watching the pulsing river flowing over the demon, bathing the boy beneath in a twisted rebirth, only glancing up to follow the deep cuts he had made with quick slashes from the barbed coil of his saw. The whole time Sebastian remained silent and still, unreadable as he bled out.

The familiar strips of film emerged from the glowing slashes, playing back Sebastian's memories in faded color. They twined around the pair in serpentine ribbons, arcing in ever wider circles around the cavern. Grell wanted to watch the memories, but knew if he didn't do what needed to be done, those memories would be all that was left. Demon or not, Sebastian could still die of blood loss. He had already bled so much.

The light at the back of the reel was easy to spot, flickering brightly from the maw-like wound between Sebastian's chest and stomach. It glowed intensely yellow, sunny and bright in its illumination. That was Sebastian's light, the ironic marker of strength and vitality unique unto him. With it was other lights, each quite dim, less distinct. A sickly orange one shook and fettered to one side, barely an ember in comparison. A barely visible green light hid in the glow of its bright neighbor, veiled and shy in its small shine. Neither looked to be Ciel's light, too pallid and slow. Grell reached his uninjured hand inside slowly, trying his best to avoid the inevitable touch of warm living tissue. It was impossible and he knew it, but he tucked his hand against itself anyway, making it as unobtrusive as possible. He felt the heat radiating from the lights, moving them aside as he searched for the one he knew would be Ciel. A very small, intensely bright red one coiled itself around his wrist, burning in anger as it slithered along. Grell ignored it, knowing it would recede when he withdrew. The lights had nowhere to go if they left the body, none except one.

That was when he found it, the electric blue glow was unmistakable as it shone from within the demon. Its light was brilliant, though its heat minimal. A light almost devoid of passion, filled with a great sorrow and lacking the right rhythm of human experience. It flickered off beat, completely out of sync for a mortal soul. Grell gently drew it into his hand, closing his fingers around the glow as he pulled it from the demon's body. It did not fight, as if it didn't care whether it stayed or left the warmth of the body it had found itself in. Yes, it was definitely Ciel.

Relana watched as the memories flew about the room at brilliant speeds, twisting like living creatures set free from their cage, wild and unbound. There were memories which were unfamiliar to her, of times before her sister, of times after. There were memories of the boy which lay bathed in the blood of his former servant and memories of conquests and battles past, memories of Hell. But there were memories she recognized as well, memories she could never forget. Memories of that day...

* * *

"Promise me," a woman dressed in pale pink asked, looking up with trusting gold flecked eyes, "Just promise you'll protect her. She is my only sister and as I give her to your keeping, please keep her safe."

The handsome man dressed in white smiled with genuine warmth in return. He knew she would ask for that, if nothing else. As her dark hair fluttered free from its patterned braids woven with baby's breath and tiny white roses, he couldn't deny her. It was all she wanted and it was all he wanted as well. There was no better promise for the day than that, "I will keep your sister safe on pain of death, I swear with my life and my love for her that it shall be."

The woman smiled brightly, clutching the small nosegay of pink and white roses to her chest, "Thank you."

Wide banners of blue and white silk fluttered happily in the ocean breeze, lit by the late morning sun rolling lazily across the summer sky. Roses of white and pink were gathered everywhere, their fragrant petals loosing to the ground in a pleasant rain, coming to rest on the white satin runners of a processional aisle. The grass was in contrast to the pastels, vibrant and deep green, bordering everywhere there was no decoration. It was a wedding and everything seemed in perfect readiness.

A woman dressed in white stood in the arched doorway leading from the back courtyard to the finely decorated garden. Her honey colored hair, with its wild curls tamed with sea shell crusted combs was piled fashionably atop her head, with longer locks streaming down her back in an elegant cascade. She faced outward, face beaming, deep blue eyes alight with a secret happiness. Clinging to the gauzy lace of her skirt was a very small child dressed in the palest of blue dresses, eyes as dark as her mother's except for their intensely red color. The child's gaze followed her mother's outward, one tiny fist held to her mouth as she covered it in content baby spittle.

The scene changed, growing dark and cold as it moved to the interior of the villa. A handsome man with black hair stood arguing heatedly with a tall woman in outdated medieval garb. Her hair was pulled tightly away from her face into an intricately woven ponytail which nearly touched the floor behind her. As angry words were exchanged and fingers were pointed for emphasis, it was quickly clear the two were related somehow. The same angular features, regal bearing and vivid brown eyes were just a few shared traits, offset by pale skin and the same shining inky hair.

As the discussion turned darker still, the man stepped away, eyes narrowing with a feral pink light.

The woman laughed, bringing a fan of red Spanish lace to cover her face coyly, "Do not threaten me, you brash and foolish boy. You are not so old as to know everything and when you DO know everything you will thank me for what we do."

"I will not let you! I will not sit by while you ruin everything I have built here! I am happy, do you know what that is? DO you know what that means?"

"You will starve yourself here! You will DIE," She seethed, "It is disgraceful to waste away like some sickly goat in a dust covered valley. There is nothing worth that, least of all a human!"

"She is different," he growled, "She is my chosen, and I am hers. We made a contract and I intend to uphold it till my dieing breath!"

The woman closed her fan dramatically, pointing it at him in a sharp thrust, "How long do you think that will be, my dear? That dieing breath you are so eager to waste on her? Ten years? Twenty? Twenty-five perhaps? You who were blessed with immortality, power, hunger and fight- chained for what? For love?"

"You don't understand-"

"I don't WANT to understand. I will not allow you to do this to yourself. You blight us all with this show of weakness!"

"Then kill me. Leave her and the child alone, kill me in their place." His breath came in deep huffs, filled with anxiety. "Then I am no longer a blight- I am no longer anything. It will be done."

From somewhere beyond the villa walls, someone screamed their lover's name in fear. A look of panic rose to the man's face as he turned to face the sound. The woman only smiled a very familiar smirk, "You will eventually thank me, you are so young in the world still."

The man took off at a dead run through the villa, the tails of his white formal coat trailing frantically behind him like twin doves racing. His footfalls echoed loudly as he ran, dark hair falling in spiked disarray from its careful combing and perfectly placed clothing coming unchecked. He didn't care, it mattered so little in comparison to the thoughts running through his mind. He was already too late, he should have known it was a delaying tool. Where was she? Where was her sister? Where was anyone?

The scene changed again, banners curling painfully in the wind as the sky fell to gray. The woman with light brown eyes held the child's face against her neck as she looked on in horror at the scene before her. It was over, destroyed, everything. Her sister's demon lover sat on the blood soaked grass, clasping the dead woman to his chest as he cried sooty black tears. Behind him, three demons in the billowy clothes of an era long passed watched in satisfaction.

The woman's face turned from shock to sadness, then quickly to anger as she took a couple short steps towards her fallen sibling.

"I'm sorry," the man said imploringly, "This isn't- I didn't want-"

"We're leaving," the tall woman said, looking sharply to the demon at her side, long hair snapping about like a bull whip, "It is time for us to go."

Her consort smiled a razor grin, double canines showing with sinister intent, "What about the other one, and the child?"

"Leave them," she dismissed, "The child is one of us, or is at least close enough. The other, well, let her raise the child. I don't think we want to be bothered with that."

"No, surely not," the third demon agreed, shaking her head, sending her straight platinum locks about her shoulders like pale vine tendrils. "Let the human do it."

The sharp toothed demon grabbed the shoulder of the distraught man, "Time to go, brother mine."

And with that, all four disappeared in a fall of dark smoke.

Then there was Hell, and the black haired man stood amongst the sulfurous flames, rage mirrored in his feline eyes. He still wore the white coat, stained heavily with the blood of his fallen lover as he approached the trio of demons before him. He would kill them, all of them, as surely as they had killed his chosen one. However, they looked upon him with unworried eyes, sliding glances to one another in their shared secret.

"You will stay here until summoned to light once more, my young and arrogant boy," The woman cooed, pulling her own blond lover close with a slender arm.

He smiled, tilting his head to meet hers, "Find yourself a suitable mate. Then maybe you will learn something worth knowing."

Molten bars crawled up from the ground, enclosing the dark haired demon in an avian cage, cooling to black iron.

* * *

Relana had seen enough. She closed her eyes to the swirling reels and let the darkness calm her aching heart. There was a lot she hadn't realized and now after everything, she realized how far she had fallen from herself. To make it worse, it had been over something she had completely misinterpreted. A tragic event made more painful with the dark and bitter anger welling from the basest recesses of her soul. If only her sister knew what she had become over that day and how foolish she had been to allow herself to be so.

Grell held the shuttering blue light in his palm carefully, green eyes reflecting its vivid luminescence. He had seen so many of these in his time as a shinigami, but none so odd as Ciel's. He understood why Sebastian had agreed to the contract, why the prey had been worth the wait. The light was like its owner, brooding and contrary, old and yet innocent. What Ciel would do with it over his new found lifetime was uncertain, but Grell couldn't help but be a little glad he would be able to live. The thought was odd though, considering he didn't like the boy. He was certainly more interesting than previously believed though, which had a bit to do with it.

With an unsteady hand, Grell brought he light down to its owner's body, tipping it onto the boy's frozen chest. It plopped onto the blood covered body, swaying like a slug in search of food. The reaper covered the light with his hand and pressed down firmly. He could feel the gore rise over his fingers as he did, cool and thick, oozing over his knuckles. It was almost done and he was glad of that. He was quite sure that once he was finished he would make a point of finding a quiet place to throw up. Looking back he wasn't sure why murder had got him off so much. It had been different then, he rationalized.

The light disappeared in a quick sputter, reuniting with its true home in a happy flash. Ice crackled, melting away instantly, warmth radiating out from the little body beneath Grell's hand. It was beautiful, it was fascinating, it was birth after death, unholy revival forged through undeniable forgiveness. It was a new day with a new chapter and the end of a short tragic story. He stood in awe of its power and of his own. It was one he thought he would never have in any capacity, the power of bestowing life.

Grell's hand slipped away from Ciel's body as it rose from its cold coffin, hovering in air ethereally. Death's pallor lifted and all the cold fell away, leaving nothing less than the blood covered life within. Sebastian watched as well, head spinning from lack of blood. He wanted to see, to know what happened next, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He felt so tired and dizzy, like the world was at all sorts of strange and unbelievable angles. Where was he? He couldn't quite remember. Everything was so blurry and getting worse. He knew that if he could just hang on a little more, he could figure it out. If he could just...

The reaper reached for Ciel, pulling him into a protective embrace. He could feel his warmth, his light returning to its full strength. No, returning stronger than when it left, almost as if its trial had galvanized him beyond the damage of his other life. That was how it seemed to him. He looked down at the bloody boy in his arms, feeling pleasantly at peace with the world despite the its horror, all traces of sickness evaporated.

Blue eyes opened from their crimson baptism anew, staring up groggily into the jade gaze and toothy smile of the reaper above. There was a moment of sleepy confusion. What was going on? Grell looked from Ciel to Sebastian and back again. Where to begin? "Welcome back, Ciel Phantomhive, it seems you have escaped the promise of Hell."


	13. Chapter 13: Mistakes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I feel this story is slowly coming to its close and with interest waning somewhat, I think that's ok. I would like to mention that after this chapter (or perhaps the next, I'm not sure), there will be a split in narrative. So if you have enjoyed this one, you can pick up the sequel "The Mortal Coil". This will be the one I will focus on the most and it is quite Grell and Ciel centric, though not in a pairing. I'm not sure what to do with Sebastian at this point, but am open to ideas- please PM me! I feel like I've boxed him into a corner... with no real resolution that doesn't involve a lot of non-canonesque (not a word, I know) events. Sooo, yeah, I'm a little lost on that one. I hope you enjoy these last couple chapters of "Commodities" and I really appreciate everyone who has been kind enough to give me reviews and feedback- you have fed my muse wonderfully.

Commodities: Chapter 13

Moonlight, thin as a razor's edge, cut through the absolute dark. The cold light painted silver patterns over shadow shrouded items as it ventured from its celestial home in the sky. In its narrow span it flitted across the Venetian carpet on the floor and laced up the carved bed post, sending the shadows darker even as it highlighted the raised points of the designs it touched.

Sebastian lay in silence, half-lidded gaze taking in the limited scene as he found his mind reawakened. He had been watching the light for hours, ever since the moon rose high enough in the sky to gain entrance. It had been the first and so far the only thing to greet him back to consciousness. Before that he had stared into the dark, feeling too weak to move, let alone sort through the obvious list of questions. His answer to every question his psyche posed was the same. Where was he? It didn't really matter. How long had he been asleep? It didn't really matter. Was he dead? It didn't really matter, though he very much doubted he was dead. He knew that death, true death, for him would be nothingness. The excruciating pain radiating from every part of him, with its nearly unbearable epicenter in his stomach, was a clear indicator that he was still living.

His hands felt completely numb and the bandages tightly wound up his arms weren't helping at all. He could feel them bound against him with a thick layer of gauze to soak any residual bleeding. They felt quite dry and cottony on his skin, which meant they had been changed at least once already. The timeline still wasn't important, but little notes like that slowly extended the minimum length of time he had been asleep.

A tentative deep breath caught uncomfortably in his chest, unable to find completion. The bandages around his middle were too tight and he swallowed the breath back, body aching at the constriction. The bandages around his neck were thankfully a bit looser, but itched.

He weakly slid his gaze to the edge of the bed where the moonlight caught the edge of an elbow along with the gentle sprawl of hair. Long strands that shone like mercury in the dark, strands he knew to be the deepest red in any other light. So Grell had been watching over him, how novel.

Sebastian could tell the reaper was asleep; head cradled by his arms on the bed as his body sat, hunched forward on an unseen chair. In his severely weakened state he couldn't tell much else, but as so many other things vying for attention in his head, it didn't really matter. Things were what they were, whatever that was. At least things were done. He was no longer in debt. Once he felt a little stronger, he would disappear from this life, find another path.

Sebastian moved to touch Grell's shoulder, instantly regretful as his arm was electrified by pain. Ok, that was a bad idea. Sebastian cleared his throat very softly, trying not to agitate the rakes on his neck. Before he could call Grell's name however, a new light flooded into the room, its golden glow streaming from the hall. Sebastian narrowed his eyes to slits against the onslaught, grimacing.

Relana stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and letting the dark retake its rightful place. He could feel her light footfalls against the carpet as she came to the bed, looking down on him. He raised his gaze to the blackness, barely able to make out the straight edge of her nose and corner of her lip. The polished servant he had played for so long wanted him to greet her, but the unbound demon was feeling particularly burnt and demanded silence. She could greet him, if she chose.

"I felt you wake up," she said softly in the dark.

"I've been up for hours now," he said in a voice which was much weaker than he ever imagined possible.

"I know," she paused, letting the silence settle between them.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I think we should talk."

"There isn't anything more to say, Relana," he said. It had meant to sound mean, but there was no venom in it, "More specifically, there isn't anything more I want to say to you, except maybe goodbye."

Relana moved around him in the dark, making him curious. He heard the sound of creaking leather and the soft thump of a chest being closed. She returned to the bedside, draping a blanket over Grell's back. The gesture brought into the moonlight, revealing more than Sebastian knew she would want.

The light reflected silvery against the two moist tracks running down her cheeks, stark against her flesh in the dark. "Why have you been crying?"

She stopped, hands hovering just above Grell's shoulders. Her fingers shook, barely noticeable to anyone who wouldn't know to look. She was upset and nervous. "I'm sorry… Sebastian," she whispered, "That is the name you're going by, right?"

"For now," was his only response, waiting for more.

"I made a mistake, in blaming you for what happened."

"I don't want to have this conversation with you, witch," he said flatly, unwilling to give mercy in exchange for her honesty, "I will be gone as soon as I am able."

"I see," she said, "That is how it is."

"I don't know what you expected. But yes, that is how it is."

He could feel a smirk tug at her lips in the dark, edge barely catching moonlight a she tucked back to the shadows, "Not knowing what I do now, my initial thought was to leave you to die there," the smile faded as quickly as it had come, "But I saw your memories and that was no longer an option. Not that your reaper would have allowed it anyway. He seems very attached."

Sebastian looked at Grell, dead asleep to the whole conversation, breath so soft and small that it would be missed by a less observant man, "He is, but that will change. He needs to be rid of this whole life as much as I do."

Relana wasn't sure what he meant by that, but didn't press. "You haven't asked about the boy," she said, "I thought you would be curious."

Sebastian thought for a moment, "I am, and I'm not. There are other questions which might be more pertinent right now. Like how long have I been asleep?"

"It's been almost three weeks."

That was much longer than he had expected, "How long until I'm healed enough to leave?"

"Probably another week, at least. You should heal a bit faster now that you're awake"

"Yes, except I haven't eaten in the equivalence of four years."

Relana said nothing in response. How could she possibly rationalize it now? With fresh tears, hidden by the cloak of darkness, she backed silently to the door, slipping to the other side without opening it, as grey mist. With her anger extinguished she found much less to say. There was a small hope that Sebastian hadn't seen her cowardly exit.

---

By the time Grell awakened, it was already late morning. Dust shimmered in the summery light allowed through the curtains, lending a timeless quality to the room. He pushed his glasses up his face some so he could rub his eyes with his sleeve, burrowing his nose against the crook of his arm. He still felt exhausted, despite what he surmised to be almost two full nights asleep.

Peeking over the crisp white fabric of his shirt, he scanned the place where Sebastian should have been, only to find it empty with the blankets carefully pulled up and tucked. When had he gone, and where?

"Sebastian?"

A hollow scuffle turned Grell's attention towards the door opposite the bed, leading to the room's private bath. The reaper rose awkwardly from his chair, surprised as a purple fringed blanket fell to the ground, "Huh?"

He picked it up, placing it on the chair before walking to the washroom door, "Sebby?"

There was no answer.

"Sebastian?"

From within the room, Sebastian looked at himself critically in the mirror. He heard Grell call his name, but wasn't ready to talk, let alone be seen. He saw a sad shadow of himself, sunken and grey in his skin. His eyes were dark, their normally animated hue visibly dulled to what could only be described as mouse brown. His skin looked and felt like parchment, unhealthily pale and tinged sallow. He looked sick and felt old. When he touched the bandages experimentally to find out how he was healing, the dull numbness still heavy in his fingers and the grooves beneath the clean white cotton told him the answer was, 'very slowly'.

Sebastian slipped into his familiar wool jacket, straightening the tie in quiet reconciliation of the routine he had fallen into for the last four years. He didn't have to keep up appearances, but with so much of him feeling unbalanced, he liked the control it offered.

As the door handle turned, Sebastian almost thought to grab and hold it shut, immediately squashing the idea as stupid. It wasn't like he was hiding.

"Sebastian really, are you in here?" Grell asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

The demon turned and gave him a very cold glare. He hadn't responded the other times for a reason.

The reaper offered a sheepish smile, not sure what to make of Sebastian's silence, "I'm glad you're up," he offered, "You were out for weeks!"

"I know, sorry to have kept you waiting so long," Sebastian said evenly, stepping forward to grab Grell's shackled wrist. With a firm squeeze the metal literally broke apart, falling to the tile floor in a sharded cascade, "And now you're free to go."

Grell looked down at his naked wrist, watching Sebastian's hand slip regretfully away, "Well yes, and thank you but-"

Sebastian turned back to the mirror, combing his fingers through his bangs in an effort to tame them to their usual direction, "To be clear, that means go."

"Sebby," Grell said, voice small, "Why are you being this way? I was worried about you and I thought-"

"What did you think, Sutcliff?" Sebastian barked, in no mood to mince words. The game was over, the debt was paid, and as far as he was concerned, his need to be compassionate had come to its end, "Because whatever it is, I'm telling you right now that it would be better left unsaid."

Grell missed the warning completely, head swimming uncertainly from this new turn of events, "I just thought that I'd stay until you were ready to go; That we could go back to London together."

"I'm not going back to London."

"Ok, what I meant was that I wanted to spend a little more time with you, maybe make some plans to keep in touch. " Grell cracked a nervous smile, "I mean you're immortal, I'm immortal and-"

"I'm not like you, Grell." Sebastian explained, "And I don't think you fully appreciate that."

"No! That's exactly what I appreciate!" He insisted, moving a hand to his chest dramatically, "I like that we're different."

"I don't wish to be rude with you, especially since you have been so helpful, but this is the end of our partnership and as far as I'm concerned, our friendship."

Grell stood, stunned.

"You didn't learn anything, did you?" Sebastian chuckled, approaching Grell in heavy measured steps. Grell took a step back, and then another. As much as his heart wanted to deny it, Sebastian looked quite dangerous then. The dark circles around his eyes made him look tired and the menacing grin spreading across his lips was one he hadn't seen before. It was evil in a very black way, with no underlying secret or coy mischief. It was a demon smile much truer to the breed than Grell had ever seen on the former butler, "Why must you never listen?"

In a flash Sebastian was on him, shoving him with an amazing show of strength against the claw foot tub behind them. As he followed after, he pushed Grell into the porcelain basin. Sebastian hopped in after him, placing one hand on each side of the shocked reaper's face. What the hell was going on?

Grell's mind raced for answers. What had he done wrong? He did everything asked of him; he had taken Sebastian down after the ritual, he sutured the wounds and bandaged them (which was a feat considering it was not his specialty), even stayed by Sebastian's side while he slept. It made no sense! "What did I do? What did I do?" He babbled, shaking his head in disbelief as he searched Sebastian's eyes for some sort of understanding, "In the rain you said- and I don't understand! Please help me understand. I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong!"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. The reaper just couldn't leave it alone, "When I said go, you should have gone."

"But why!? You were so nice before and before that… well not so much but-" That was all he could come up with. Sebastian hadn't been consistently nice, it was true, but during the storm Grell had been quite sure of his sincerity.

"That wasn't me," Sebastian explained, "That was a product of getting rained on. You are a Shinigami; you should know these things."

"What?" Grell was more confused than ever.

"Water, rain, the ocean, things like that- it changes me, a lot. But that isn't me, that isn't what I am. I'm a demon and that is really all there is to it. I may be particular about my food, I play to servitude for better meals, but when it is all said and done, I'm still a demon."

In a moment of defiant clarity, Grell set his jaw, "I don't believe that. You were going to marry that girl! You had a child with her! You kissed me in the rain and held me after! You said you were sorry! THIS isn't you, Sebastian. Even at your coldest, you aren't like this. It just isn't you."

Sebastian leaned in very close, eyes showing the low demonic sparkle as he brought their gaze within a couple short inches. A low growl emanated deep within Sebastian's chest and with teeth firmly grit together he said, "I'm a little hungry and you wouldn't GO."

"I think you've been hungry for a good long while, waiting for Ciel. That doesn't make you act like this. What is going on, Sebastian?" Grell said with forced calm, "You should be thanking me! You should be happy for my friendship and-"

"You're right," Sebastian said with a smile, "I'm not like this, usually. I should be grateful for everything you have done. But that is the problem with being a demon, Grell. I'm not obligated to it, there is nothing in my soul which makes me sympathetic, empathetic, or emotionally reflective. It is something I have to choose and it is something chosen through a trigger- be it rain, the sea, or a contract."

"Then why, Sebastian?" Grell's voice had taken a familiar quaver to its edge, threatening tears despite his show of resolve, "I don't understand."

"My debt is paid, finally. You can call this self preservation; call it insurance that when I leave here, nothing from this life will follow. Call it a lesson that you did not learn the first time around or call it me trying on a new mask, whatever you want."

"What is WRONG with you!?" the reaper seethed, trying to get out from under the imposing demon above. He scrambled helplessly against the slick surface of the tub, only succeeding in finishing his fall into it with his lanky legs, "I'll go, ok? I'll go and I'll leave you alone. Now let me up and I'll be on my way."

"No Grell, not yet." He purred, leaning in for a deceptively chaste kiss on the reaper's lips, "Since you haven't learned this on your own, I'll tell you something very important. Demons are selfish and I am no exception. Everything I do, benefits me somehow. The only exception to this is when I'm in an altered state- something which I do not intend to do again if I can avoid it. Now, we have no contract, no promise, nothing to chain me. Whatever meaning could have been brought from that first kiss, and there isn't much, is negated and eclipsed by my trade with Skoll."

Grell felt the blood in his veins run cold. The sides of the tub seemed unnaturally high and confining as he looked into the cold gaze of the demon above. He felt Sebastian's hand press to his chest firmly and realized just how dire his position had become. His hands flew to Sebastian's wrist just as the rush of pain hit, paralyzing his body in a taut seizure.

Wind howled past his ears as his soul was pulled from him, raw pain screaming through every piece of his being. His feet scrambled for purchase against the slick tub, heels squeaking noisily as they found none. The storm of his soul, desperately trying to cling to his body, raged around him. He could feel Sebastian's legs on either side of his waist, the demon's sinewy form holding him down as he thrashed. It was like Skoll all over again, that feeling of being torn asunder. He had never thought Sebastian would attempt such a foul thing on him.

Darkness began to close around the edge of his sight, head swimming with the promise of unconsciousness. His fate loomed, final call, the end of everything that he was and had ever been. Sebastian's pull was not meant to taste, but to consume, to engulf. With each passing moment, the demon grew stronger and each moment following, Grell felt himself slipping away.

In a final lurch of strength, Grell reached a hand skyward, seeking the edge of the tub. He knocked the metal fixture above instead, sending a spray of water down upon them both. The shower sputtered to life as the valve opened, gravity feeding the tub with cleansing rain. It splashed on his upturned face, hitting his closed eyelids as he fought for consciousness. It fell upon Sebastian as well, veritably extinguishing the fire which drove him to feed upon the prone reaper.

It was only a moment's hesitation on Sebastian's part, but it was enough for Grell. With an angry sob, the reaper forcefully shoved his attacker back, pulling himself into a sitting position at the far end of the tub. Sebastian allowed himself to be pushed away, looking somewhat bewildered as he sank down at the other end. Why had he done that?

The water fell between them, errant splashes hitting both men as they sat in mutual disbelief. Grell fought to catch his breath, centering his scattered thoughts as best he could. He didn't understand it anymore, any of it. The one thing that rang true was that he was playing with fire, fire he couldn't control and didn't completely understand. It had been fun, whimsical and novel, at least at first. He could no longer put himself in such danger. It was too close, always too close. What would have happened if he hadn't hit that valve?

The water slowed to a trickle, its tank exhausted, before finally stopping all together. Sebastian had known what he was doing, but why had he chosen to act so? He felt shame wash over him thinly, just enough to make him feel awkward. He didn't know what to say, how to proceed. It was very confusing to be out of contract, left with the free agency to act himself. He almost didn't know what to do with it after so long. No, he really didn't know what to do with it. Kept in check for so long with one contract following the heels of another, he had forgotten how to meter himself properly. How to say yes to himself, how to say no. As he looked at Grell, who returned his wide eyed stare with decided coldness, he didn't know what to say.

All color seemed to have been drained from Grell's flesh, making his light green eyes look even brighter, scarlet hair deeper. Sebastian however looked much better. His skin had flushed the pale peach of heath, and his wounds seemed much less severe. In frustration he ripped the wet bandage from his neck, pulling his other across the clawed gashes roughly. They were gone.

Without a word he stood and climb from the tub, taking the time to straighten his tie. With a sideways glance back at Grell, Sebastian hastily walked out. He was convinced, more than ever, he needed to be done with the whole thing. He needed to find his identity again, and he was sure more than ever, he couldn't find it here. What a mess he had become.


	14. Chapter 14: Lessons Learned

Commodities: Chapter 14

Ciel sat alone on the bluff, knees tucked to his chest with his chin resting upon them. He looked sternly out to sea, chilly wind coursing around him in billowy gusts. The day was a mix of sun and shadow, 'monkey shine' was how the witch had described it. It felt like his mind, conflicted and confused.

He was no longer dead, which should have made him happy. But the weight of everything which had already transpired drew heavily upon him, sapping what strength he was trying to hold on to. He was no longer in danger of going to Hell, which should have also made him happy, but he felt like a cheat. But he wasn't that, was he? He had paid Sebastian and had then been used in turn, to pay Sebastian's debts; a pawn in a larger game of chess. He wasn't used to that. It wasn't like he reneged on the contract.

Sebastian had left without a word and that bothered him, greatly. He now had a healthy fear for the demon and what he could do, but as his only constant friend and companion for the last several years, he felt jilted. Or maybe he felt unimportant, or that his actions cheapened Ciel's memories. That was it, he felt cheap.

The witch hadn't asked much of him, though it was clear that he belonged to her. No, maybe not quite that. She was attentive and kind to him, asked very little except for his company. It was more that he belonged with her, rather than to her. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. For the time being, it seemed wise to just accept her hospitality. She had, after all, saved him from damnation.

"What are you thinking about?" a voice to his back called, barely audible against the billow of the wind.

Without turning he could tell it was the witch, though he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

He felt her settle down just behind him, her thin arms lacing around his chest, pulling him against her gently. She did things like that, often. It made Ciel uncomfortable, but that fact didn't seem to stop her. Had the situation been different, he would never have allowed it. But his own perceived debt, though it was one he didn't ask for, kept him from lashing at her to keep away. That, or maybe with this renewed chance he wanted to do things differently. There was a part of him that enjoyed the contact, enjoyed not being quite so alone.

He let himself lean back against her, head resting against her shoulder as they both looked out over the calm swells. Yes, there was a part of him which could not deny how good it felt to be touched, to be part of the human experience again. Her hand combed through his hair, tucking the silvery locks behind his ear before resting her head against his.

"I need to go back to London, if you'll allow me to," He said.

He could feel her sigh, a breath warm against his ear in the chill of the day, "Why do you want to do that? You have made it sound like there isn't anything there for you to go back to."

They sat quietly as he thought about her words. She was right, mostly. His estate was gone, burned to the ground, again. His servants were most likely dead, with the exception of Sebastian, who was no longer in his service. Without him, rebuilding his empire would be nearly impossible. The queen, who he had served to diligently, had become his enemy and then died. The only rational thing he could think to return to, would be to Lizzy. But he wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea, given all the circumstances. Added to that was that by now, she knew he was dead, "How long have I been here?"

"A little over a month, I think."

Yes, she knew he was dead and was probably getting over it. A second return from the grave could be very ill advised indeed, not to mention he was somewhat tethered to the witch.

"Am I your servant?" he asked, voice somewhat innocent. He didn't know the parameters of his situation. Clarification could help him make a better decision, assuming she would let him go at all. It wasn't like he could leave on his own.

"No?" she replied, a little surprised that he'd asked, "Do I treat you like one?"

"No, but I don't know what I am to you. I think, whatever my station, I should know."

He was so matter of fact, so serious. Relana couldn't help but admire and pity that very adult nature in him. Even when he first regained consciousness it was there, the brooding thinker, the grounded adult born of necessity through tragedy. She still didn't know the particulars, but what she gathered was already pretty gruesome.

"You aren't anything, Ciel, "she said thoughtfully, brushing his hair back again as the wind blew it into his eyes, "Technically you belong to me because of my barter with your demon, but I'm not the sort of person to bind another to me like that."

That sounded odd to him, considering she had made a deal with Sebastian to begin with, binding him in a way, to her whims until he repaid her. The witch was a strange one, "So then, I'm free to leave."

"If you choose, then yes, I won't keep you here." She said, quickly adding, "But I think you should stay, at least for awhile. You aren't ready to face the world on your own."

The statement stung. She was absolutely right, but it still pricked his sensitive pride. He had been a heavy hitter before, but that was mostly due to Sebastian's ability to back up his statements with action, whether it was force or legwork. Going back to his life without the demon by his side would be like returning to work with no arms and no voice. He would be completely useless to himself.

Ciel began to look at his options, weighing each in turn. He could go back by himself, but already knew the outcome of that. He could return and try to hire a staff to handle most of his needs, but if they were anything like his previous hired help, it was useless. That, and even the best help would seem incompetent in comparison to Sebastian. He somewhat doubted even another demon could do as well. He could try to find Sebastian and renegotiate his contract, but it seemed unwise to throw his soul away a second time, especially when he wasn't in mortal peril. He doubted the demon, if he was even able to find him, would be willing to make that deal again. Grell had served his aunt, but the reaper hadn't really been under her control, and it had ended very badly. So what was left? The options were so… grim.

"You're thinking so hard, I can hear it," Relana joked, "Why do you want to go back so badly?"

"I don't really know, I just do." He admitted, "It's… home."

"This is your chance to start over. You have no obligations to anything or anyone."

"No, but I have obligations to myself," He explained, "and I think I want to pursue what I had. I want to…" he stopped, not ready to say the rest out loud. They were just hazy thoughts in the back of his head, ideas of what he could do, now that time wasn't so short. The strongest of those thoughts, however, was the one which made the least bit of sense. When he said he wanted to pursue what he had, the internal assumption was that he would do so with Sebastian. While he knew he should be thankful for his soul, he ached for the familiarity of his demonic servant.

"Do you know where Sebastian went, when he left?"

There it was, that question. Ciel had asked it before, several times, guised in the veil everything from sleepy confusion to idle chat over tea. At different times, in different ways, the boy asked that question. Today it was more direct than usual, "No, he didn't say anything when he left. "

"I want to find him," Ciel bit down on his tongue, hard. He hadn't meant to say that out loud and as soon as the words left his lips, he instantly regretted them. He was just so used to saying what he wanted to do, usually to Sebastian. His purposeful intent was part of who he was.

Relana made no move to deny his request, no acknowledgment of it at all, actually. Not even her body language changed. If she had felt insulted or disgusted, she never gave it away. She just sat and watched the waves. Over the shallow reef crescent which gave the island its only sheltered harbor, Relana could see Sinah's raven form racing with the wind. Her demon agility gave her an edge to cut sharply from one gust to the next with flawless certainty. As much as Relana wanted to call that training, most of it was inborn ability.

"Hm," she murmured, looking down at Ciel, "Have you ever wanted to learn to fly?"

* * *

Grell stood silently in the darkened doorway of his office, sullenly looking at the desk within. He was emotionally and physically drained and not looking forward to the monumental stack of paperwork he knew awaited him. However, what stared back at him was much worse than that. Had it not been for his fatigued state, he was sure he would have been more concerned. Anxiety was trying its best to take a hold, but there just wasn't enough in him to feel much of anything.

The desk stared back at him, empty. There was not a single paper there. The trays for incoming and outgoing work were gone, as were the small stack of sorting shelves. There was only the honey stained oak of the desk itself, with its matching slat chair behind. It was a bad sign, though it didn't necessarily mean anything. He could have been moved, or with his absence, his work given over to another reaper. It had happened in the past. The only thing was how thoroughly empty the desk was. It wasn't normal to remove personal sorting items and such.

Grell crossed the threshold sluggishly, depositing himself on the chair behind his desk. He pulled the top drawer open, it was empty. Moving to the side drawers, one by one he opened them and found that they too were empty. His pens, his notes, his stationary, everything was gone.

He dragged a tired hand down his face, trying to make a decision. Should he go ask William about his office, or should he just go back to his flat and wait for William to call for him. Maybe he had called already, which was why everything had been cleaned out. If that was the case, he didn't even want to think of the mess Will walked into at his flat.

Grell sat at his desk for a long while, staring blankly at the wood grain. He understood more clearly, why things went they way they had. His personality opened him to injury in a way he thought he was impervious to. But thinking back through his history, his REAL history, he should have known that eventually, as he dove deeper into the intrigues around him, he would find himself where he had been before. It was something he hadn't thought about in a long time, his life. His original, first life, before he had become a shinigami. How it had been, how it had ended, and why.

As his thoughts wound deeper, his reflection was cut short by a light tap against the door frame, "Knock knock?"

Grell looked up as if in a daze, his face wearing its weariness plainly. In the doorway stood Ronald Knox, the field operative and junior desk jockey the other knew well. His flaxen hair was wild around the signature red goggles that he wore perched atop his head. They were the only thing lending a method to the chaos of his appearance, but did little to tame it. He was like a bottled whirlwind, happy and wild as it buzzed across lands unknown. He was an adventurer not unlike Grell, living his immortality rather than existing within it. The marked difference being, Ronald avoided the emotional thralls which Grell took such pleasure in. His adventuring was of a different variety, romance only taking its seat as pleasant company. Drama was something he did without.

Grell wanted to greet him, he really did, but the words just lay dead in his throat. Luckily, Ronald took the initiative, smiling disarmingly, "You look absolutely terrible."

At that, Grell smiled weakly, gaze sliding somewhere in the vicinity of the wall. He had a lot of reasons to look, and feel, terrible, "Yes, I would think that I do."

As quickly as the smile came, Ronald's expression turned gravely serious, "Spears told me that if I saw you first, I was to tell you to report in immediately."

"It's after hours," he replied softly, meeting Ronald's all too sober gaze.

"He said that you should go to his house then. This can't wait." Ronald shook his head, trying to lighten the mood, "Look, I'm sorry. I hate bringing bad news to anyone, especially you. But you gotta know you're in a heap of trouble."

"I thought I might be."

"Where have you been, anyway?" Ronald asked, stepping far enough in to close the door. From his pocket he pulled a match, striking it with a flick of his thumb before lighting the sconce candle on the wall, "Everyone was really worried about you. Then the rumors started flying and-"

Grell stiffened, "What rumors?"

He had said too much and he knew it, "No, no I can't get into that. I'm not supposed to know anything."

"But you do?" Grell pressed, standing unsteadily, "Knox, what do you know?"

Ronald shoved his hands deep into his pockets, leaning back against the wall. He looked at the ground as he spoke, carefully considering his words. He didn't want to get tangled in the mess, "You need to go see Spears. If anyone else finds you here, I think it's going to get ugly."

The blond reaper turned to leave, hand resting on the knob. He knew he should just go, let William handle the situation and get the cliff notes when it was all said and done. But the word around the office was so scandalous, so criminal… Instead of opening the door, he turned back around, "Really, I need to know, I just need to know. Did you revive the Phantomhive kid?"

Grell was quiet. So, they knew. He considered lying to Knox, but thought that might prove more insulting to the other reaper in the end, depending on how things played out, "Yes, I did."

"And, and the other thing?" Knox asked, hand shoved back into his pockets once more.

"What other thing?" Grell felt his chest clench. It looked like the Ministry knew far more than he had anticipated. He knew William would figure at least part of it out, but for Knox to know meant everyone knew, and that meant a trial. Not even William could play interference effectively now.

"You know," Knox said, shrugging for emphasis, "Getting personal with demons? I mean personal personal? Like really, extra specially up close and personal."

"Eh," Grell croaked, "Technically, yes."

"My god, man!" Knox exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically, "I know you're into that sort of thing, but you've gone too far. You need to go talk to William, seriously. They are going to try to burn you at the stake for all this. What were you thinking?"

"For which offense?" Grell sighed, slumping back into the chair.

Conversation ceased as the door swung open, leaving both reapers to stare wide eyed at the person who entered, closing the door swiftly behind him.

"Mr. Spears, thank goodness it's you." Ronald said, sighing in happy relief, "For a second there I thought-"

"Ronald, please leave," William said calmly, "And if you see anyone else, I'm not here and Mr. Sutcliff isn't here either. You haven't seen either one of us."

"Yes sir," Ronald replied, slipping past and out the door. As he closed it behind him he added, "I'm sorry, Grell."

Grell sat guiltily in his chair, eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. William knew everything. He didn't know how he had found out, how anyone had found out, but it had somehow all come to light and he was in a lot of trouble.

William stood just beyond the desk, back straight and feet together in his usual professional manner. He didn't speak immediately, clearing his throat and perching his glasses just a bit higher on the bridge of his nose, "I need to hear it for myself, Grell. I need to hear it from your own mouth before anything else happens."

"What is that?" Grell said timidly, venturing a small peek upwards.

"I need you to tell me where you've been and what you've done, because there are allegations against you on a monumental scale. If I don't know the truth, there's nothing I can do about it."

"What allegations are those?" he asked, wanting to know precisely what he was going to be charged with. Maybe they had missed some things and he'd have some hope of a light punishment. It was unlikely, but hope sprang eternal.

"Leaving your post, allowing a back log of souls exceeding one month, interfering with the reclamation of a soul by the Hell Administration, direct dealings with a being of demonic origin for personal gain, fraternization and intercourse with a being of demonic origin, study of forbidden techniques concerning reanimation and resurrection, use of a forbidden technique to revive of a lost soul, unauthorized use of a death scythe to aid in the revival of a lost soul, refusal to return to your post after three direct notices delivered to your place of residence, and lastly, allowing a being of demonic origin to feed upon your immortal essence."

When William laid it all out, it seemed like Grell had done everything willingly, which made each crime seem more severe. He didn't know what to say to defend himself, it was all true. Every point, whether he had been a willing participant or not, happened; it made him feel sick to his stomach now, even though it seemed like something else entirely as he had stood pinned against the sooty wall of Ciel's burned wine cellar.

" I need you to tell me, Grell, how much of this is true." He said evenly, resituating his glasses yet again. It was a nervous cover, designed to refocus and embolden.

"It's all true, Will. I didn't mean for a lot of it to happen, but it's all true."

In a show of uncharacteristic rage, William T. Spears slammed his hands against the bare desk, leaning forward to emphasize his words, "Why would you do that? What possessed you? Grell, do you understand the kind of trouble you're in!? Do you know what they're going to do to you for this?"

The brand on Grell's back flared angrily, stinging against his shirt. It was his one big fear, the worst fear that had been lurking in the back of his mind since he started down that path, coming true one ugly moment at a time, "I… I… I just…"

Will was around the desk in one swift movement, grabbing Grell by his waistcoat and hauling him to his feet, "Why Grell? I need to know why!"

Grell's lower lip quivered as a dozen excuses came and went, all unspoken, "I didn't mean… I didn't want… it just… I just…"

William shoved his subordinate against the wall roughly, watching as Grell's head snapped back, hitting the wall with force as well. He put his weight behind his hands, keeping the redhead right where he wanted him, "You've made it so I can't so anything about it. I can't protect you at all! You have gone way way too far."

"I know Will," Grell sobbed, tears or fear and embarrassment rising, "But I didn't want to do it! I didn't have a choice!"

William loosened his grip, taking a step back as Grell began to cry. He watched as Grell slid down the wall helplessly, hands coming up to cover his face in shame. It would be a lie to say he had done it all under duress, but there was a fair portion of what he was accused of that really wasn't in his control. If he told Will the whole story, The Ministry would go after Sebastian. If he chose not to, there was a very real possibility of hard time, if they didn't just decide to execute him.

"What do you mean by that, Grell?" Will asked, kneeling gingerly beside him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't bother for an explanation, but this was different. What The Ministry had already discussed as punishment was very severe, and very final.

"I don't know what to say and what not to say, Will." Grell said, voice thin and wavering, "It's complicated. I'm not even sure exactly what I went along with and what I didn't anymore."

"Did you make a deal with that demon, Sebastian?" William asked slowly. He would separate things out one at a time before passing judgment, though his instincts told him that he would be leading Grell to confinement again and this time, Grell would not be returning to work.

"I did," Grell sniffled.

"Did you learn how to bring a soul back?"

"Yes. And yes, I used it to bring back Ciel Phantomhive."

"Did you sleep with Sebastian?"

There was a long pause as Grell slowly brought his arms to rest over his tucked knees, eyes glassy with tear. What a loaded question that was, "No, I didn't." There was another pause as Grell closed his eyes, "That was... someone else."

"I think," William began, "That at this point, I would have preferred you sleeping with that wretched demon than do everything else you did. I could have overlooked that."

The pallor of Grell' skin drained farther than its already unhealthy hue, "Are you going to take me in?"

"It'll be worse for you if I don't. There's an order out to kill you on sight, if you run."

"What's going to happen to me?"

Rather than tell him the truth, William touched Grell's leg with what he hoped was an encouraging hand, "I will do what I can."

* * *

Sulfurous fumes shot skyward as flame spouts danced in and out of their molten craters. The unearthly mix of red and green glows, overlapping in shuddering cringes along the porous stone and mounds of volcanic ash. Two figures stood at the edge of a molten pool, gazing across its alternately bright and dark surface as if watching the sunset. Each stood regally, shoulders back, chin held at a haughty angle of superiority. One wore an ornate brocade dress, the other seemed equally refined in his butler's livery.

The woman unfolded her fan in a slow, fluid motion, batting it back and forth with a slow air which reminded those watching that she didn't need its cooling wind. It was more for show than anything. She hid her dark eyes, rimmed heavily with black kohl, behind its lace edge, coyly, gazing at the other with something akin to lust, but not quite so straight forward, burning in their smoldering depths/ She smiled, lips painted a deadly black, and spoke in a confident tone, "When it is all said and done, you return back to the beginning again."

"It seems my fate rests in this sadistic circle," the other said lowly, "No matter how many paths I take to avoid its revolution."

"This is true." she said, tipping her chin in a small nod, "Though it is not entirely your fault."

"I am well aware of that."

"Where shall you go from here to escape the next turn, handsome boy?"

He frowned. He had not been a boy for a very long time, but she insisted on labeling him thus, "I think, perhaps, I will hunt more exotic game for awhile. I have, through my last contract, discovered that I am not as limited in my prey as I once believed."

"Will you remain free then, give up this nonsense of master and slave, slave and supper? It is so far beneath you, dear."

"Perhaps, for now. But whatever the course, I have realized something very interesting."

"And what would that be?"

"Existence is revolving debt. Much like being crushed is painful, but crushing someone else is satisfying, it is the same in its way."

"How very interesting, go on?"

"There isn't much more to say on the matter."

"And what state are you in?" She asked slyly, running the edge of her fan against her chin.

"I'm debt free, for the most part," he shrugged, straightening his coat conspicuously, "It looks like the Administration is going to let their piece of my 'lost soul' slide and everything else has been handled. Only..."

"Only?" She giggled, "Only what? How droll to not finish your sentence."

"I just know I left debt in my wake, for others. But... that is the way it works."

THE END

Post Note: There will be a sequel coming very soon called "The Mortal Coil". Please add me to author alert if you want to be sure and not miss it!


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